300th Hunger Games Syot! Closed
by CelesteIzaFanLolz
Summary: The 300th Hunger Games, a Syot! Submit characters, sponsor, and the battle will unfold! Who will make it home to victory and riches? Who will make it home packed in a wooden box?
1. Announcement and Directions

**Author's Note:** The 300th Hunger Games, a open Syot! And a Quarter Quell.

so I previously had some extra info on here but it has been moved to my profile so the fic doesn't get reported I'm not moving the tribute form there b/c all of them are submitted but I will move the sponsoring stuff okay thanks reader!

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"Do you have something special planned this year?" President Tessa curtly asks.

"Of course, ma'im. I have a special arena that'll challenge these tributes very much," says the Head Gamemaker Maximillion Articulate.

"And the ratings will go up? Last year was a disappointment, with Carter. The rating went way down when all the regulars joined together and turned on the careers. Then they refused to kill!" Tessa yells outrageously, then chuckles. "Well, the mutts got it going. Ha. So, this better be good."

"Yes, of course, ma'im."

"Don't call me that anymore. Call me... President Tessa. Ma'im is sooo last year."

"Of course, President Tessa."

"Now, stop dilly-dallying and get to work," she says as she waves her hand at him and walks out the door.

"Yes, President Tessa."

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"The twist to this year's Hunger Games is a riddle. What will you do in a place where you cannot get the necessities to survive? How will you, based on you perception. And perception can be based on your location? And how will location benefit you, or, let us say, break you down like shattering glass. Or hitting you with a rock? Changing location, perception, and chance of survival can be easy like a snap, or hard. Those who are smart enough to figure this out may be smart enough, brave enough, and strong enough, to survive this arena. Who will you need most, you, or others? And how much time do you have before it all...blows?" President Tessa reads off a card in a commanding voice to Panem.


	2. The Chosen Tributes Names! DADADAAA!

"Do you have the list of all the tributes name? I don't want to get them mixed up."

"Yes, here you go."

The Tributes Names:

D1:

Girl: **Velvet Barron** (SnowWhiteWithKnives)

Boy: **Reed Lokin** (Queenjawn)

D2:

Girl: **Celia Wake** (xxbookwormmockingjayxx)

Boy: **Terant Ravenwood **(Elizabeth L. Holme)

D3:

Girl: **Audrey Chambers** (SnowWhiteWithKnives)

Boy: **Jojo Jensen** (David N. Brown)

D4:

Girl: **Noelle D'Hell** (Elphaba01)

Boy: **Jassin Gill** (Tigergirl22)

D5:

Girl: **Kat Mireille** (Queenjawn)

Boy: **Barqi Amett **(CelesteIzaFanLolz.. and yes I can submit my own tribute, no I won't make them perfect and win because they are mine, and I am doing this because I need more tributes! also if you have only submitted one tributes or zero, submit another! Thanks! :DDDD )

D6:

Girl: **Saffron Lowsari** (Tigergirl22)

Boy: **Jimmy Kotyer** (ZazzyZ)

D7:

Girl: **Jamie Burnside** (Superdude2062)

Boy:** Finch Aspen** (Vulkodlak)

D8:

Girl: **Artemis Rose** (ScarletRavenwood)

Boy: **Scott Lockwood** (ScarletRavenwood)

D9:

Girl: **Aubra Macintosh **(PSULucky)

Boy: **Miller Garner** (CelesteIzaFanLolz)

D10

Girl: **Anna Mougin** (Tigergirl22)

Boy: **Damion Janus** (Superdude2062)

D11:

Girl: **Bernadette Taloc** (Doctor Legolas)

Boy: **Schulyer Grey** (David N. Brown)

D12:

Girl: **Kaiya Achrane** (PandaEyedDetective)

Boy: **Blizzard Fairos** (Tigergirl22)


	3. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** **Hi! These are the D1 reapings! Okay, lets start! :D Read and review, and I don't own HG *disclaimer)**

**Hey SnowWhiteWithKnives I hope it's okay that I made Velvets mother pregnant? :D And thank you Queenjawn for Reed :D  
**

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**Velvet Barron D1 Female:**

I smile as my spear pierces the dummy in the heart, the cloth tearing and blood-red cotton falling out. I smirk, as I go to pull the spear out.

I slide it out slowly, give the dummy a dazzling smile, and smoothly say, "good thing you're not real. You'd be gone is a snap." I snap with my perfectly manicured fingers, painted hot-pink for the reaping. I swiftly turn around and pull open my cabinet, admiring the absence of squeaks. I twirl around, my short pink dress swishing beautifully, in front of the mirror in my cabinet. My sandy-blonde hair hangs in the perfect position, as always, and my deep blue eyes sparkle. I flex my tan arm, and smile, satisfied, when my muscles build up in a mountain. I pose some poses, and admire my slim figure I've worked so hard to get, even though I was born beautiful. Then I stuff the torn dummy into the cabinet and shut the door. My mother will find it later and mend it, because that's her job. She's the best fashion-designer in the District. That say's something in District 1. But I'll be gone by then. Because today is the reaping, and today I will be volunteering. Because the Training Academy picked_ me_! Because _I_ have the best chance of winning, they said! A smile naturally forms on my face, and my cheeks turn to hills, adding on to my prominent cheek bones. I leave my spear on the ground, because my mother, or the mayor, whom she is having an affair with, and who's house we are in, will put it in the training room later. Yes, we do have a training room. That is because it's the mayors house, and he's one of the richest in the District. The only richer people are the Victors in Victor Village. That's what I will be. I wonder about my soon to be District Partner, Victor Payton. His name definitely doesn't fit him. Because he definitely won't be the Victor, as I will be. _Obviously_. He's tall at 5 ft. 8 in., but, I'm an inch taller, so ha to him. I could beat him easily. The directors of the Academy don't see it, but some other Careers jump out at him, and he shrieks his head off. He'll probably chicken out and not volunteer. That would be stupid, this is a one-in-a-life time chance! What our whole life is about! I don't even know _why_ they picked him. He's good at tying nets and is really fast. But those are not Career qualities! He's only _okay_ with a sword. He has tan skin, bottle green eyes, and dirty-blonde curly hair. So they probably picked him to get the career pack more sponsors, because women will probably sponsor him. Even though he's only a little muscly, less than me! I huff at the thoughts of a weak partner, but quickly stop myself. If I want sponsors, I can't huff. Although, I'll look beautiful doing anything. Anyways, it means one more weak tribute and another tribute easier to kill. Besides, it's good they didn't choose Raymond. I go out my door and downstairs to the front door. Mother and Ralph, the mayor, greet me. I already had breakfast, eggs, bread with strawberry jam, and bacon served by those _despicable_ avoxes.

"Pearl, get Genevieve," Ralph tells my mother. I stare at her stomach. My mother is pregnant by 4 weeks. I found out a couple of weeks ago. My mother is holding the baby shower and party for after I get back. They are probably going to find out the gender while I'm gone. I wonder if the baby will look like me and my mother, with sandy-blonde hair, navy blue eyes, tall, and tan skin. Or, if it will look like Ralph, short, black shaggy hair, pale, and icy blue eyes. Or a mix? Perhaps sandy-black.. wait, is that a color? Well, perhaps black silky hair, icy blue eyes, tall, and pale skin. That would look pretty nice. Or blonde hair, clear icy blue eyes, and tall with tan skin? That sounds exactly like my boyfriend, Raymond. He's the most handsome 18-year-old. I met him because my best friends, Molly and Cassandra, thought we were perfect for each other. So he asked me out, because his friends thought that too. Turns out we are perfect for each other, our personalities matching like..like... like puzzle pieces! Mother comes down with Genevieve, my sister. She's not as pretty as me, with light brown short hair and clear wide blue eyes. She looks like my father. But we're actually pretty close. As they all congratulate me on how I've been chosen to volunteer, I think of my father. He must be thinking of me, as he makes his way to the square. He was the most proud of me when he found out the news. He and my mother are going through a tough divorce, though. But, my mother told me that a Victor friend of Ralph's had been told by Ralph that Ralph was going to propose to her once I got back. She hasn't been able to talk to me lately, though. Between her job, making baby clothes, buying baby supplies, going out with Ralph, and keeping up her social status, she's really busy. I get it, it takes hard work to keep your social status. I should know, as the most popular girl in my grade. I'm going to miss the last bits of school, but it doesn't matter. Once I'm a rich Victor, I can pay for tutors. Or not do the studies at all. I don't need the smarts if I will become a Capitol model. I slip on some silver high-heels, and we make our way outside early, so Ralph can get on stage, and Gen politely compliments my dress. I return the compliment to her icy-blue knee-length tight dress with a brown belt. My mother made both of them. We chat excitedly about what arena I may face and what the riddle means. I've got no clue, but Gen has a couple of ideas. She says there may be bombs, the arena may blow up, there may be traps set up that pierce you with glass shards, maybe all the weapons are just big rocks which you have to throw, and that sponsors might be 'crucial' to your survival. I'm prepared for all of this. I'll be sticking by the Cornucopia so bombs elsewhere won't bother me, same with traps, I can lift rocks, and my looks and being a career will get me plenty of sponsors. We all say goodbye to each other, Ralph walks to the stage, and I go to get my finger pricked. Gen gets her finger pricked and then goes to the 15-year-old section. Fellow Careers give me nods, smiles, encouragement, and some send me looks of envy and jealousy. My fingers pricked, and I'm a little upset my perfect fingers now have a dot of red on them, but it's fine. Some of the wimpy 12-year-old's are actually crying because they think the prick hurts. Good thing someone will volunteer for them if they get reaped. I get in the 18 year old's section and meet up with Molly and Cassandra. Molly twirls her light brown hair and stares at me with her green eyes, while saying how she wishes she had my tan skin instead of her fair skin. Cassandra nods her head at me and congratulates me on being picked to volunteer and how she knows I'll win. She has my deep blue eyes, but dark blonde hair, and is only a little shorter than me, by about 1 or 2 inches. She goes on to talk about her pet dog, Paige, and Paige's latest activities, her sisters birthday I'll miss, how she'll be cheering me on, a book she's reading, and lots of other things. I pretend I'm listening, but then shush her when the mayor starts talking. Everyone claps, then they show a slide show, then he talks, and _finally_ the District Escort flows toward the microphone. Sally Rickles, a women with fake everything so that you don't know what she actually looks like. She has fake bright purple teeth, a bubblegum pink curly wig, skin light-pink, and her eyes are dyed lavender. Shes wearing a floor length silky white gown with a pattern of lavender branches. Oh my god, I can't wait to get to the Capitol and try out new fashion!

"Hello, District 1!" She giddily giggles. Everyone claps and whistles and applauds, and I hear some yells of my name and Victors name. I smile proudly, and Cassandra nudges me.

"Well, quite an audience, I see!" shrieks Sally. More applause. "Well, I'd better get this reaping started and pick the lucky girl and boy to represent this wonderful District I am so happy to be in!" The crowd chants 'District 1! District 1!" as Sally makes her way to the glass bowl full of slips that matches the color of her wig. She reaches in, and the square suddenly goes silent. Everyone looks at Sally and then me.

"And the tribute is... Va-"

"I volunteer!" I yell. I smile as I make my way to the stage, looking proud and beautiful. I'm only a little ways away from the stage, when I hear another shout of 'I volunteer!' and pounding feet. I quickly get up the stage and next to Sally when the other girl is just next to the stage. She has thick brown hair, green-blue eyes, and is super pale, and at least 3 inches shorter than me. She actually tried to go against who the academy chose! She reluctantly goes back toward her spot. I think I recognize her from school, she was some loner depressing person.

"Ooooh, looks like a strong one!" exclaims Sally. "What is your name?" she says, sticking the microphone in front of my face.

"Velvet Barron, and your soon to be Victor!" I say proudly with a clear voice.

"Well, Velvet, good luck! And may the odds be ever in your favor, may I say! Now, onto the lucky boy!" she scoots over to the male bowl, which is blue, a color that isn't on her. Maybe I will see blue on her next year. When I'm on the stage as a mentor.

"Reed Lokin!" I see a guy come towards the stage, and don't pay attention to him, just wait for the yell from Victor. None comes. Everyone's staring at him, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes are wide and he's paling. Five seconds pass, and Sally asks for volunteers. He actually is chickening out! And it's too late for anyone else, because Sally is already instructing us to shake hands, and other Careers want so badly to go, but it's too late, because we're being rushed toward the Justice Building, and I don't even have time to look at my partner. I don't even have time to find any friends or family in the crowds. But, I was right, _Victor chickened out_.

**Reed Lokin D1 Male:**

Yes, I am a Career. But, do I like it? I would say no. I mostly do it to survive. Oh, and because I'm in a career district. If I wasn't a career, I'd stick out like a sore thumb. A very sore thumb. Any non-career family or person in our District is shunned. Like my parents. They weren't careers, and didn't like killing. So they committed suicide. They didn't like killing, but were forced to kill themselves. The District didn't sympathize one bit. Glad to get rid of the vermin, they said. Good, their kid won't grow up with such strange parents that would influence him in the wrong ways. I guess I'm better at being a Career now that they're gone. I'm more violent. Maybe if they were here I'd be a softie, and not even hurt a fly. But they're gone. And I'll kill if I have to. But, I'm not some blood-thirsty freak. But I'll kill. Get me angry one bit, and I'll strike. I've gotten into plenty of fights at the orphanage and school. Even though there are barely any other kids there. Because District 1 parents are happy and want to keep their children. Except mine. Who just left me. At the orphanage is just twenty-three 1 through 6 year old's, three 7 through 9 year old's, twelve 10 through 16 year old's, three 17 year old's, and four eighteen year old's. That's 45 children in the whole District without parents. 45 out of millions. I have two friends, Duke Kingston and Theo Griffin. They're the other two 17 year old's at the orphanage. We train at the Training Academy when we can, but tend to get unnoticed. Besides for the one time I got into a fight with a guy I don't even know the name of. I was the top of conversation for weeks. But I slipped back into the shadows, and was soon forgotten again, and new gossip sprung up about some girl dating some guy. Stupid District 1. I get dressed into my reaping clothes. Most will try to wear something bright and very pretty here in District 1, District of luxury. But, today is a day I don't like. So, black clothes it is. A plain black turtle-neck long-sleeved heavy shirt, and black khakis, and black worn-out dress shoes the orphanage supplies you with. I dress like this even though it's, as always, a sunny happy day here in District 1. But to me it's dreary. Depressing, as it always is in District 1. Depressing, as my life always is. Duke and Theo are already downstairs. I go down and go to the cafeteria. I snatch a tray from the stack piled high, almost touching the low, molding, chipping gray paint ceiling. The cook plops a small portion of slop, which is supposed to be oatmeal, onto my plate, and hands me a spoon. We get oatmeal each day for breakfast, with nothing to drink. At school they give us slop on a piece of bread and orange juice. Well, that's if you don't pay. If you pay you get a hamburger, a sugar-cookie, and lemonade. Or, you could bring your own lunch. But the orphanage doesn't give us lunch. So I get the crappy school lunch, along with Duke, Theo, and other orphanage kids. The rich kids all rub their wealth in our faces. Duke attempts conversation, but we really don't feel up to it. So, we just try to gulp down our food without throwing up. Because of the day, and because of how disgusting the food is. Everyone is the orphanage is sad. Because they could get reaped. The Capitol might be going for a 'oh poor orphan goes into the Hunger Games' theme. Hopefully not. Besides, there will be volunteers. The Training Academy chose two kids. The guy is nice, but scared easily, and I don't know why they picked him. The girl is snotty and has fake written all over her. Her friends are with her for her money and popularity, her mother doesn't love her, her father just wants fame from her being a tribute, and she and her boyfriend are just together because that's what's expected; the two perfect people together as a couple. She uses her looks to get her where she wants, and it will eventually all blow up. I prefer my life to her life, which is just a lie. After I eat the lunch, I make my way out of the orphanage with Duke and Theo. We go to work a street away, where we are building buildings. About 20 adults and I bring bricks to Theo and about 20 adults, who then puts mortar on them, who then hands it to Duke and about 20 adults, who stack them. We keep this up for a hour, and then are dismissed for the reaping. We jog over there so we're not late. I see the soon to be District 1 female tribute, and glare at her. She sends me a wink. So disgusting, I just want to go punch her. Or punch someone else. Like the District escort. Or the President. Or anyone, really. Just to let my anger out. My stupid anger. I get pricked and then go to the 17-year-olds section with Duke and Theo. The mayor makes the same speech, the same slide is shown, and finally the escort comes up. Her name is Sally, which isn't too unusual, like other Capitol names.

"Hello, District 1!" She shrieks as she giggles like a crazy person. Everyone claps and whistles and applauds, and I just want to scream at them to shut up. These people are insane.

"Well, quite an audience, I see!" shrieks Sally. More f*ing applause.

"Well, I'd better get this reaping started and pick the lucky girl and boy to represent this wonderful District I am so happy to be in!" Lucky? Lucky?! I wish I could go up there and just slap her stupid.. purple? Her skin is purple. What is wrong with the Capitol, that they dye their skin purple! Now I really want to go up there and slap her stupid _purple_ face that is overcrowded with ugly makeup. The crowd chants 'District 1! District 1!" and I mutter how horrible it is under my breath. Purple women makes her way to the glass bowl full of slips that matches the color of her hair-no, obviously wig.. She reaches in, and the square suddenly goes silent. Everyone looks at Sally, and I can't help but look too, tearing my gaze away from my shoes.

"And the tribute is... Va-"

"I volunteer!" I hear a yell. I see the snotty girl, whom the Academy chose, stride overly-confident to the stage. When she's almost there, I hear another shout of 'I volunteer!' and see a girl sprint. The snotty girl is just getting on the stage, when the other girl is next to it, standing defeated. She has thick brown hair, green-blue eyes, and is super pale, and is pretty short, but it would depend on her age. I'm not surprised that she tried to volunteer. Plenty of people volunteer against the Academy's wishes.

"Ooooh, looks like a strong one!" exclaims Sally to the snotty girl. "What is your name?" she says, sticking the microphone practically up her mouth.

"Velvet Barron, and your soon to be Victor!" She says way to over-confident. She'll probably be the...19th to die, I guess.

"Well, Velvet, good luck! And may the odds be ever in your favor, may I say! Now, onto the lucky boy!" she goes over to the male bowl, and I cross my fingers as she reads a slip.

"Reed Lokin!" That's me. I've been reaped. A path isn't even cleared, as they know someone will volunteer. I'm surprised the chosen volunteer hasn't stepped forward yet. But it's my duty to go to the stage, still. I go, knowing I will come back down. I roughly shove people to the side and push them to the ground and make my way to the stage. I get on the stage, and Sally asks for volunteers. I see the chosen tributes eyes widen with fear. He's not going to volunteer. Sally rushes us to shake hands,and then rushes us toward the Justice Building before anyone else has time to volunteer. I came back down from the stage, but different than I thought. I come back down as a tribute, not as free as I was before. When the doors close, my last view is of the wide eyes of Duke and Theo, and people surrounding the boy that didn't volunteer. I'm a tribute in the 300th Hunger Games.

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**I hope you like what I did with Velvet and Reed so far, don't worry more things will be revealed later! Sorry if I wrote too much, I have a problem with not being able to summarize things or write things with few words :/ :P :DDD  
**


	4. Chapter 2

Read and review! :DDDDD I'm in a smiley mood. Hope you like your tributes xxbookwormmockingjayxx and Elizabeth L. Holme! :DDDDDD SMILEY :D

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**So I forgot to tell you guys there was a rebellion but President Snow got away in his plane and left and the Peacekeepers killed the rebels and D1 and D2 hadn't joined in so the rebellion failed. :( :'( :/ Then President Snow came back. He retired after the 86th HG and he died right after the 112th HG, and different Presidents come and go, all leading to President Tessa. I don't really like her.. I don't know If I'll add more on her, but her characters pretty boring so far :/  
**

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**Celia Wake D2 Female:**

I'm on the top of the climbing wall, looking down at the dummies who are throwing spears at me. I dodge, catch, and throw back at them, hitting each on target. My practice for today is complete. I've lifted weights, ran, fenced, threw knives, and climbed and threw spears. I'm completely ready for this day. The most important day of my life. The day I volunteer. I know many others are thinking this, I think as I slide down the climbing wall. Here in District 2, the Training Academy doesn't pick the volunteers like the other Career Districts. In District 2 they like to put on more of a show. The Careers fight to volunteer. Which I like, because I like to get dirty. They have to race to the stage when the name is called, and whoever gets there first and says 'I volunteer' gets to be a tribute. On reaping days the hospital gets _plenty_ of new patients.

I walk home to mansion. We aren't the richest in the District, but, well, almost everyone is rich. Besides the non-career families. They're just ignored. I slip through the alleyways and shadows, avoiding the celebrating and loud music. I can't be distracted, I have to get home soon enough to get ready. This day is a party for everyone. This day is more important than anything, _even_ birthdays, which are greatly celebrated here also. Especially the Presidents birthday, which is October 31st, known to all in Panem.

I arrive at my home, a three story white house with a brown-gold roof. I find it one of the most beautiful houses in the District. That may be because it is mine, though. I slide through the door, which is unlocked so I can get in, and quickly lock the gold chain. I sprint to my room and put on my outfit as quick as I can. I want to be one of the first in the District square. My dress is a sea blue knee high tight dress, and I put my brown waist length hair in a bun, like always. When my hair is down it gets in the way, because of the length, and it doesn't look as nice. Then I slip my feet into black heels. I apply my precious makeup on. Black mascara around my hazel eyes, light teal eyeshadow, pink lipstick, and decide that my skin looks fine tan. I could put on foundation to make me more pale, but everyone always compliments my tan skin, so the Capitol probably will like it. Way better then the people in the other Districts, besides District One and Four, of course. If it didn't get you sponsors, I wouldn't care, though.

"Celia!" calls Aiden, my father. I walk out towards our living room, which is covered with plush red and white furniture. I'd rather have it blue and gold, my two favorite colors, but the living room is still pretty.

"Time for the reaping, Celia," my mother, Amelia, says proudly to me. She knows that I _will_ be the tribute.

"You look beautiful, Celia. Surely you will surpass the District 1 tributes, eh? Now, we'd better get going, wouldn't want to be late!" Amelia heads out the door in a short tight purple dress, and Aiden follows in a brown tux. I go out after and stride purposefully down the sidewalk. We reach the square and I get pricked, and then go to the 16-year-old section. There I greet Valerie Macintosh, my ultimate best friend who has been training with me since we were 6. We were put in the same beginners training group, and instantly clicked. I tell her some of my ideas for the Games, like what training score I'm going for and my interview angle.

"I'm going for an 10 or higher," I say proudly. "I want to be the first in the Hunger Games to get an above a 10 since the 75th Hunger Games."

"Of course! And your interview angle is clever, am I right? You only told me about 1000 times," she jokes. Suddenly I hear a buzzing and jump back. My eyes dart to my shoulder. I stare at the despicable bug on my shoulder and jump back. Valerie, right on cue, flicks it off, and I breathe out relieved. I hate bugs. Any size, any color, any shape, anywhere. I just hate them.

"Lets hope there's no bug mutts in the arena," I say hopefully and she snorts out a yes. Valerie is letting me go this year. She's going to go next year, and if she doesn't make it, the year after that. If she doesn't make that then I've agreed to let her be my assistant so she can be a mentor to new tributes. The mayor makes a speech, and I listen attentively. Who knows, maybe the Capitol told him to say something that was a hint for the games. But no, it's the same speech as every year that I have memorized in my head, word for word.

"Hello, District 2! What a sunny day it is here in festive District 2, where the streets are completely covered with celebrating, and even the alleyways have been shed light! How wonderful it is to be here! How happy I am!" the District Escort, a paunchy small man, says. I'm not sure if his grammar is entirely correct...

"I am your very lucky and fortunate new District Escort! My name is Phox Atlas, and I am so pleased to be here, as I am sure all of you are!" The last year escort, Fannia Fairbain, got fired when she mixed up who got to the stage first. President Tessa wants it perfect.

"Now, I'm sure everyone wants me to just zip my mouth and get on with the reaping, so, I'll do just that!" he cheerily exclaims, and he jogs over to the female pink glass bowl. He looks tired from just that jog. I get in a running position, and so does everyone else. I can do this. I have been practicing running in these heels for forever. Valerie whispers me encouragement.

"The tribute of the 300th Hunger Games, a rather exciting Quarter Quell, would be.. Masha Jav-" A bunch of screeches of "I volunteer!" fill the air as all of the Career girls make a mad dash for the stage, toppling over each other and attacking one another. I slip through the girls like a snake,going under, over, and around the frayed girls. I'm almost there, when a girl attacks me. She goes to punch me in the jaw, but I catch her arm and twist it back, nice, easy, and quick. She lays on the ground, moaning, as other girls run over her. We all run toward the stage, but I'm the fastest. As they start to climb the stairs, pushing the others off, I leap into the air and onto the the stage, landing on my feet like a cat. Except, that just rumors, cats don't actually always land on their feet, and if they do, they get hurt.

I readily walk to Phox, and smile at all the girls whose eyes are sending me daggers. "I volunteer. My name is Celia Wake and I would like to thank the Capitol for this opportunity!" I smile at the cameras and hope I look good, as I smooth down my dress. The audience claps for me, and I find my parents and Valerie, and grin at them.

"Well thank you, Celia! A clear survivor, to get through that!" he motions his head to all the girls that had been fighting, and the crowd chuckles. "Well, now the male tribute, of course!" he picks a name out of the bowl and I see all the boys get in a running position. I make a silent bet in my head on a tall boy at about 7 ft. who is overgrown with muscles from the 18-year-old section. "V-" The air is filled with shouting and screams and pounding feet. The one I had bet on is pushing tons of people to the side just with his hands. But almost all the guys see him as a threat, and all pounce on him, so he is knocked to the floor covered with bodies. The ones not on him run to the stage. Three guys are almost there. One gets to the stage first and calls out, "I volunteer!"

"Goodie, a volunteer! What would your name be, young man?" asks Phox.

"Terant Ravenwood. I'm here to win," he says with a blank face. Hes tall and is very muscular. His chin juts out, he has a strong face,he has dirty blonde hair, and hard crystal blue eyes. Phox holds both of our hands up and yells, "Our District 2 tributes!" His words are drowned by clapping as Phox leads us to the Justice Building. It is now time to win this.

**Terant Ravenwood D2 Male:**

_"You will volunteer. You must live up to the name of Ravenwood!" my father shouts at me. I cower before him on my knees, shaking. Suddenly my eyes spring open. I'm shaking and sweat is staining my bed sheets. It was just a dream. Just a dream._

_But, _I am supposed to volunteer for the family, and 'be up to standards of the name of Ravenwood'. That's all I hear from my family, and blah, blah, blah. I curse under my breathe when the realization of what day it is crosses my mind. It's reaping day. And, I have to volunteer. Because if I don't make it, what will be waiting for me will be much worse than the arena. My father. At least the arena will give me a break from him. But I still don't want to go. I don't want to succumb to Career bloodlust. But what choice do I have? My father has been berating me about since it started walking and talking. Even before then. I don't even get why there are the Hunger Games. It doesn't help the Capitol. It's just less people to work their asses off for the Capitol. Why do we even listen to the Capitol? I think as I slip out of bed and wipe my forehead with my sleeve. If no one listened, then the Capitol wouldn't control us, and no one would go into the Hunger Games. Just one little problem. Some people actually want to go to the Games! I furrow my dark brows as I undress and slip my reaping clothes on. I put on a thin purple dress shirt and brown long pants. Then I stick some black fancy boots on. I flatten down my hair and go down our hallway to the kitchen. From the pantry in the kitchen I grab a long breakfast bar. Made of oat, raisins, and seeds. Then I take a long swig of water. My father walks in the room along with my older sister, Tora. Tora looks like the family, with black long curly hair and tan skin and emerald green eyes. I don't know why I look like how I do. I have my mother's eyes, but the rest of me looks like no one in my family. Besides my second removed cousin. We both have the same dirty-blonde hair and face shape, but he has emerald green eyes.

"Hello, son, and the soon to be District 2 tribute!" my father says proudly as he pats my back. Behind him Tora gives me a wicked smile. She is going to try to go to the games this year also, because she is 18. And, I know she wouldn't hesitate to kill me in that arena. Not that my father would care. As long as we have another victor in the family. I already have victor cousins and grandparents, I've got to live up to their expectations and match the rest of my family. He wouldn't care if I died. Because I killed his wife. Well, I think he did it. He's the one who got her pregnant that lead to her death. They tried to save her, but only I could be saved. He wishes it were the opposite. I hear him and Tora talk about it when I eavesdrop on them. He is disgusted that I got her eyes.

Tora us in a short puffy dress where the top is black, there is a silver sparkly belt, and puffy light emerald bottom. She is wearing her black heels and silver sparkling dangling earings. I have to admit, if she did get to be the tribute she would probably gain many sponsors. Plus, the fact she has been training for 12 years and would get a great training score. Well, I have been training for 11 years. So, same difference. Yes, I say same difference, not same thing.

The three of us head down the street and on the way pick up our friends. Tora picks up about ten career girls who are all giggling to one another and talking. I drop by my one friends house. Crysta Mathers. I don't like getting attached to people, but it was hard to not. Finally, after many, many, _many_ days, we just started doing everything together and talking all the time. I told her my nightmares and she told me her fears. This has been so since we were 11 years old. She walks out in a bright blue knee-length dress with peacock feathers on the bottom and peacock feathers as a one-shoulder sleeve. I smile up at her bright blue eyes and long wavy dirty blonde hair and she skips down the stage in golden-brown sandals with heels. We walk silently to the square. When we get there we wish each other luck and go our separate ways to get pricked. I get pricked and then go to the 17-year-old male section.

"Hello, District 2! What a sunny day it is here in festive District 2, where the streets are completely covered with celebrating, and even the alleyways have been shed light! How wonderful it is to be here! How happy I am!" the District Escort, a tiny overweight man exclaims as he bounces toward the microphone after the mayor sits down.

"I am your very lucky and fortunate new District Escort! My name is Phox Atlas, and I am so pleased to be here, as I am sure all of you are!" Well, good for you, I think, sarcastically.

"Now, I'm sure everyone wants me to just zip my mouth and get on with the reaping, so, I'll do just that!" he says in a high-pitched voice as he stumbles toward the glass bowl. He seems excited out of his mind. Last year he was the District 3 escort, and he is so happy to be promoted.

"The tribute of the 300th Hunger Games, a rather exciting Quarter Quell, would be.. Masha Jav-" suddenly I have to cover my ears as the air is disrupted with girls screaming. They all run to the stage and jump on each other. Pathetic, I think, but then realize I am going to be doing the same thing soon.

A girl is on the stage and I see all of the others giving her evil glares. Soon that might be me. "I volunteer. My name is Celia Wake and I would like to thank the Capitol for this opportunity!" she smiles to the cameras and I shake my head. Yes, I may have to do that sooner or later, but it won't be that bad. _She_ is doing it. _But,_ she is a career.

"Well thank you, Celia! A clear survivor, to get through that!" he motions his head to all the girls that had been fighting, and I raise my eyes as the audience bursts into laughs. "Well, now the male tribute, of course!" he picks a name out of the bowl and I see all the boys get in a running position. I already am. "V-" I save my breathe because you don't need to scream that you volunteer yet and I run to the stage. I see a super tall guy swiping guys aside. A bunch of guys attack him and he falls toward the ground. I take that opportunity to run toward the stage and I get there first. I quickly yell, "I volunteer!"

"Goodie, a volunteer! What would your name be, young man?" asks Phox, the escort.

"Terant Ravenwood. I'm here to win," I say with a blank face. I can't smile. My face is like a flat board. Unmoving, unchanging, and not feeling. At least Tora isn't going in also. Let us just hope this girl isn't worse. Phox holds both of our hands up and yells, "Our District 2 tributes!" The clapping hurts my ears and I walk as quickly as I can toward the Justice Building.


	5. Chapter 3

Hey hope you like them so far! Thank you SnowWhiteWithKnives and David N. Brown for the tributes! :DDDDD Read and Review! :D

***Disclaimer*** don't own HG-ok now I'm not gonna say it again so tiring and so much work :/ :PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP :DD

**Also this chapter contains swearing in Jojo's POV.**

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** Audrey Chambers ****D3 ****Female:**

_"I want her out of my life. Maybe _I_ drink. But _she_, well _she_ is a devil child."_

_"I don't want to be any near a beast of a daughter. She clearly has problems, and I'm not going to be the person that's going to fix them."_

I am sitting up in my bed, thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking. What a horrible world it is. Oh, how so many things are right, but so many more things are wrong. I climb out of my window and slide down the vine that hangs from the tree next to it. I run across two blocks to get to Kean's house. We are complete opposites, him tall with dark blonde hair and dreamy blue eyes. He must be at least 6 inches taller than me. I'm short, flat, have snow colored skin, black oily hair that curls into ringlets, and almond shaped black deep eyes that look like never-ending pits. People say I look like the District 12 tributes. People say I look ten years old. It may be because I'm 4ft. 11in.. It may be because I'm stick skinny and look so innocent and fragile. But I'm not. Once they talk to me, they know I'm not.

I rap my knuckles on Kean's front door. His mother opens it and welcomes me in kindly. She leads me into the living room and tells me that Kean is just getting ready. I already got ready. I ate breakfast, took a rare shower, although it was ice cold, and got dressed in my reaping outfit. A light blue floral dress that is knee-length with knee socks and black plain shoes. That is considered a nice outfit here in District 3, but in the Capitol it would probably be considered trash. Kean comes bounding down the stairs in a smart navy blue shirt that matches his eyes and black formal pants and boots.

"Hello! So you decided you _would_ wear something nice to the reaping!" Kean exclaims as he looks at me.

"Oh, shush it, Keira! You know Rosie made me," I curse at him and roll my eyes. He chuckles slightly as he kneels on his knees and puts his arm around my shoulder. Kiera is what I call him when I'm annoyed because I find it a girl version of his name.

"Come on, Audrey. We have to go back to your house," he scolds me.

"Oh, can't we just skip the reaping this once?" I say jokingly. Now he rolls his eyes and we make our way to my house to pick up my family. He is sliding along on his knees so we can be the same height, and his mother and father follow behind us smiling to themselves. I ring the doorbell and my father answers it.

"Audrey! But, but, but you are upstairs!" he says surprised.

"Dad, I climbed out the window," I say simply. "Are you ready to go?"

"Oh, yes. And hello Kean, Mrs. Fitch, Mr. Fitch," he says as he walks back inside, to get the rest of the crew, while rolling his eyes and laughing to himself. My father comes out with Rosie, my stepmother, and Daphne, my younger half-sister. You may read those books where stepmothers are always evil and stepsisters or half-sisters are always out to get you, but, in this case, it is not true. Rosie came from District 1. She worked at making luxury items in a factory, and she was so good that they specially transferred her to District 3 to work on technology. When she was sick she went to my father, Blast, and they fell in love. Rosie is just the sweetest. This was after my parents split. Evelynn is somewhere I don't know, and I would like to keep it that way. A little later Daphne came along. Sweet, sweet Daphne. She looks exactly like her mother with pale blonde hair and icy blue eyes. I took Daphne's hand in my left one and hold Kean's with my right, swinging them back and forth like a swing. Kean looks at me funny.

"What?" I snap at him.

"You two could be twins!" he states and starts cracking up. I give him my famous glare and he goes "No! Anything but that!" I just ignore him. We could not be twins. She is 6 years old. I may be short, but I am not _that_ short. As we walk to the square tons of people come up to talk to Kean. He_ is_ Mister Popular. Each time a person comes I glare at them and eventually they go away. I hate them, I just wish it could just be me and Kean. None of those people. Well, besides our families. We get to the square and I hug Rosie and my father and Daphne and then go to get pricked. After being pricked I go to the 15-year-old section. When I get there everyone sends me stares and steps away from me. I'm used to this. So I just send them a look and they back away more. A evil grin appears on my face.

The mayor makes his speech. I click my tongue. Most things intrigue me, as I am a true District 3 girl. But this speech I have heard since I was born, and it is really starting to bug me. Finally the District Escort comes up. Shes new because our old District Escort got promoted to District 2. I never liked him.

"My name is Turner Black, and hello, brilliant District 3! I am so glad to be in the presence of so many intellectual minds!" She shouts to us. She thinks we'll love her since she used big words and complimented us. I scoff and squint my eyes up at her. Her electric blue hair is piled up on her head in tiny braids and her pale skin makes her electric blue eyes stand out. She is wearing a fluffy navy blue ball gown covered in navy blue and golden feathers.

"Well, I better pick the lucky girl tribute!" she says a little sadly because she got no response. She dips her hand in. Don't be Audrey Chambers, don't be Audrey Chambers, don't be Audrey Cha-

"Audrey Chambers!" I gasp and everyone around me moves away. I am to shocked to move. I am frozen with fear. No, I must have heard wrong!

"Audrey Chambers? Are you out there? Come on up darling" asks the escort. Suddenly the peacekeepers are coming towards me and I scream. An ear-splitting scream. I look around for Kean but I can't find him through all the bodies. I scream his name. In the distance I hear my name being called back to me. The peacekeepers pick me up and I scream, punch, kick, and bite as they drag me to the stage. They drop me next to the escort I sit there with tears streaming down my face. I can't go into the games. I'll die. As the escort helps me up and smooths down my dress, I hear whispers of "Mini-Beast was reaped!" and "the doctor's daughter was reaped!" That is what people in District 3 call me. Not Audrey. I'm either my father's daughter or the small but deadly beast that everyone hates. I squint my eyes to stop the tears and try to direct all my hatred packed into a small hole in my head so I don't have to think about how unfair this is. The escort pats my back and she reaches in for the male tribute name.

"Jojo Jensen!" yells the District Escort. Jojo..Jojo Jensen.. Jojo. Where do I recognize that name from? I see a boy walking to the stage. Jojo Jensen! Yes, he is 15 too. I always felt connected with him because he didn't have any friends. But I never talked to him. He is wearing a huge fluffy brown coat and heavy brown pants and black dress shoes. It's only slightly chilly, but I know he has a phobia of the cold. He is also using a long black stick as a cane. I know he has a ankle injury, but no one besides him and his family knows how he got it. He just told the class that he was born with it, but no one believes him. I don't really know whether to believe him. He limps to the stage and when he gets there leans towards the microphone.

"What do you get when you put a crippled boy into the Hunger Games?" he leans back and we all answer it in our heads. Death. Ever so slightly his lips move so that only he and those next to him, me and the escort, can hear, he whispers, "bloodbath." He looks at his feet as if hes given up. He has to be at least a foot taller than me, even when he is slouching, and his light blonde hair hangs in front of his sunken chocolate brown eyes. His already pale skin looks even paler than usual.

I have been ripped away from my life just as it has started coming back together. My eyes widen as I enter the Justice Building. Will Evelynn visit me?

**Jojo Jensen D3 Male:**

I turn the rusty old piece of shit in a complicated pattern. Out pops a pistol, long, sleek, and dangerous. I close it with a squeak.

Maybe.. huh. Just a little tweak.

I reach down and add some putty to disguise the opening more. The previously white paste turns into a rusty looking black that matches the medallion. The medallion that's worth a tiny bite of burnt, moldy, stale bread. I bought it at the local market for half a roll of fresh, warm, toasty bread. It's not even worth that, it's just a plain ol' crappy black rusty piece of f***ing shit. But it is just in case the inevitable happens. Then I fixed it up. And made some bullets. Because of my _great_ District 3 skills. That everyone here has. Just technology, technology, technology.

It would definitely be my life savior. Besides for the putty, no technology would be able to sense the weapon inside. And, how do they think that a crappy old thing like this could be a weapon? Or that even a District 3 person made such a weapon without the Capitol knowing. But it would be my life savior. Because my sucky-fucky life decided I would gain everything that would kill me in the games. A shitty ankle. It's so messed up. I can't run, I limp when I walk, and if you try to put me on rough terrain.. well, you get the point. I'll collapse. And my phobia of cold. They would be sure to make the arena ice-freezing at one point, if not the whole thing. I would never be able to survive that. Oh, and lets not forget the fact that I'm weak and can't fight! No, no, I am not in a career district, in case someone would stupidly think that. A career district would never produce someone like me, and someone would volunteer if I got reaped. So, obviously, I can't fight, as I am not a career. Obviously, obviously. I spend more than half of my time working at a factory where all I do is arrange wires in millions of machines for the Capitol's pleasure. Who even made them in charge? Who do they think they are... well, they think they are the Capitol and ruler of the country. And yes, they are. So now I am just mindlessly complaining. I bet I'm not the only one.

I stand up and stuff the medallion in my work overalls pocket. Work is off today, which is bad for me. I've got to earn money to put food on the table. Besides getting a billion orders of tessera, I have to work at 15. Which isn't uncommon here, but still. I have to support my family of 7, including me. Let's see, me, my four brothers and one sister, my father, and my mother. And when I'm not working or going to school, I take care of my father. He was paralyzed by an accident in a factory that killed 205 people and injured 367. My oldest sibling and only sister, Jamie, who is 23, works at day and night to provide for all of us. My older brother, Jacob, who is 18, works all day (when he doesn't have school) and night too. My older brother Jared, who is 17, works all day (when he doesn't have school) and night too. My younger brother, Jason, who is 14, works in the morning from 1:00 A.M. to 7:00 A.M. because school starts then. I work all day when I don't have school, and at night when I do. When I'm gone Jason takes care of our father, and when he is gone I take care of him. My mother is never home because her job at the factory lasts all day and night. I just see her if I rarely pass by her in the factory hallways.

On that happy note, I'd better get dressed. I walk over from my desk, that is covered with papers with carefully written math equations and wires, to my closet. I already have my work overalls on, and I might as well wear them as I do have to go to work after the reaping. That is, if my life doesn't f*** up more and I get reaped. So I just slip on my huge fluffy brown coat and a thick pair of pants over my overall pants. Then I push open the door with my black cane and limp out to my fathers bedroom to help Jacob get him in a wheelchair. Jacob lifts him into a wheelchair and wheels him to the reaping. My mother walks next to my father. Reaping day is one of the few times we get to be with her. I hum a scary song that goes da, da, da-da-da daaaaa, da duhhhh, daaaaaa! Something like that.

"Jojo, will you please stop humming that? I'm already scared out of my wits for you guys and that isn't helping!" Jamie exclaims. I was humming a horror song... I smile to her and pat her shoulder.

"Oh, poor poor Jamie. Scared out of her wits, must be impossible with so much wits in her!" I say shaking my head. She just rolls her eyes at me. We get to the reaping and go our separate ways to get pricked. After I'm pricked I go to the 15-year-old male section. I'm surrounded by a bunch of bone-skinny wide-eyed fearful kids. Anyone of them could get reaped and die in the next couple of weeks. The mayor speaks and after him the new District Escort comes up. Shes unnaturally blue, though she certainly doesn't feel blue based off the attitude she is projecting.

"My name is Turner Black, and hello, brilliant District 3! I am so glad to be in the presence of so many intellectual minds!" She shouts to us. She is met by not even the sound of crickets.

"Well, I better pick the lucky girl tribute!" she says a little sadly because she got no response. She picks out a slip and reads from it. "Audrey Chambers!" Audrey Chambers! I know her! She's the doctors daughter, my father went to him when he was first paralyzed. I know she has one friend, because no one else likes her, because of her personality. She is called Mini-Beast also because of her size. Her one friend is the popular handsome Kean Fitch. He is standing quite near me, and I see his eyes widen with shock.

"Audrey Chambers? Are you out there? Come on up darling" asks the escort. Suddenly in the crowd I hear a scream that feels like a hundred needles are piercing my ear drum. I hold my left ear with my one free hand, because my other hand is holding the cane.

I hear a scream of Keans name, and he shouts back, "Audrey!" He pushes through the crowd to try to get to her, but everyone is so flustered by the screaming that they don't even move out of the way of _handsome popular_ Kean. Finally she comes into my view. She is being dragged by peacekeepers onto the stage as she bites, kicks, punches, and screams as they plop her down next to the escort and she sits there with tears dropping onto the stage, staining the wood a darker shade in spots. I feel so bad for her, she has about an equal chance of dieing as me, which is pretty big, unless she has a hidden talent. As the escort helps her up, wipes her tears away, and smooths her dress, I hear whispers of "Mini-Beast was reaped!" around me. Kean sends them all hard looks and they immediately quiet down. I still feel bad for her. Her f***ing life is more messed up than mine. The District Escort picks out a male name. I cross my fingers.

"Jojo Jensen!" yells the District Escort. Jojo Jensen. She said my name? Why did she say my name? She said my name. My stupid crappy shitty f***ing name that managed to get read at the reaping. Where do I recognize that name from? Oh ya, it is mine. Why couldn't she pick a different f***ing name. Just a slip right next to that one. Why? I don't know f***ing know why. So I limp to the stage pressing extra weight to my cane, pressing all my anger onto the cane, so it bends and I have to stop to keep from cracking in half. I finally get to the stage and lean towards the microphone.

"What do you get when you put a crippled boy into the Hunger Games?" I ask to no one in particular. I guess the whole of Panem, as the whole of Panem will be watching. Almost not at all I move my lips so that you can barely hear what I'm saying, even if you are right next to me. "Bloodbath." I look at my feet and let my shoulders slump and my back bend. I've got no chance. I look up suddenly. Will Jacob or Jared volunteer? I find their guilty faces in the crowd, and when our eyes meet, they look away. Of course they wouldn't volunteer. They would surely die just as I am fated to, and no one would want that. Love doesn't go that far. I slouch down again. The escort rushes us toward the Justice Building, where I will see my family for the last time.

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Yay my first non-career district! Hope you liked it! :DDDD It was so sad writing Jojo's just so depressing! :/


	6. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** hi! so District 4 here! Thank you Elphaba01 and Tigergirl22 for the tributes! After this tell me who is your favorite career! -even people like who are kind of careers but don't like it count even Noelle. :D I hope I do this good Elphie you were so descriptive! :P

you know whats funny? Noelle was the first tribute submitted and Jassin was the last! I find that kinda cool :DDDDDDD Just me and my weird mind :PPP

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**Noelle D'Hell D4 Female:**

People send me stares. Creepy middle-aged men, with balding spots on their graying hair and a sadistic gleam in their eyes. Others are careers. Some jealous, but most teasing. Because here, in District 4, it is a Career District. But, we do it for survival. Yes survival. Not cruel pleasure because we're bloodthirsty freaks. Well, last year our male tribute was a crazy psychopathic bloodthirsty (literally) carnivore that volunteered for the games and ate his kills. But that doesn't happen _that_ often. The Training Academy still picks volunteers, but most of the time they don't volunteer. And guess what? They picked me. "Psh. NO," I told them. No way in _heck_ I'm volunteering. That's like signing up for a death sentence.

'Oh, hey Capitol and Mr. President! Can I please, please, _please_ sign the list for you to kill me , and for me to kill countless others?' Uh, no way. Some people encourage me to volunteer. They say I've got a big chance of winning. But, they just want the comfort of knowing that if they're reaped, someone will volunteer for them. Most likely.

And now the escort is coming up. I didn't really listen to the mayor's speech, like always. The escort is a short pudgy women with layers of fat that the couple of poor families of District 4 can't even dream of. She's even wearing a dress that looks like a huge rose, made of deep red silk and velvet, that looks like it cost a billion dollars. And her hat is a sun-hat covered in all colors of roses. She's wearing pumps that are bright red, and she looks like a garden threw up on her. My lips purse and my eyebrows cross when I realize her flowery get-up matches the red roses on my otherwise navy blue dress. My eyebrows cross even more.

"Oh, gello, District Tw-Four!" she says quickly. She used to be a District 12 escort, but that was about 5 years ago. She still gets them mixed up. Oh, and I already knew from watching the sad District 12 reapings that she made food references a lot. Go figure.

"Now, you betcha I'm gonna pick the girl tribute! Mmmm!" she says as she bounces to the girl's pink glass bowl. She picks out a slip of paper, and I don't even hear her words. I don't want to know what poor sole is going into the games, and who will die because I didn't volunteer.

"Oh ... damn it ALL," I whisper to myself. No one else will volunteer, it's not my fault. I catch everyone staring at me expectantly. They couldn't have expected me to volunteer? I quickly look at the stage and it strikes me. Oh... crap. I am pushed forward by someone, and solemnly makes my way to the stage. I stare at the escort with disgust. Her names Pugy Gal. Add a -d and you would realize that sometimes parents can weirdly predict their kids futures.

I hear crying, and find my mother weeping in the crowds. I don't want to cry and look weak, but a few tears slip out. I quickly wipe them away, and stride to Pugy. I swallow my tears the best I can.

"Oh, what a wonderful dress you have!" exclaims Pugy, winking at me, and gesturing to my dress. I wonder if they specifically chose me so the outfits would match. But how did they know I would wear this?

I blush so hard, but my eyebrows cross out of habit. How did they know I would wear this? And do they pre-select the tributes? And I _hate_ this dress, anyways. Though I would never force my mother to get another one for me.

"I thought it was rather embarrassing," I say without thinking. I'm definitely destroying any sponsors that I may have because of my looks. At least I won't be seen as a new _Glimmer_, flirting with all the Capitol men and looking like a shitty slut.

"Oh, of course it is not, pumpkin! I shall now select the District 4 male tribute!" My eyebrows cross, if possible, even more. Just because of my red hair doesn't make it so she could call me pumpkin. These Capitol people are so dense. Well, obviously, Noelle, they send kids to kill each other each year and celebrate it.

She hasn't even read the name yet when a boy volunteers. I look up, not surprised. The boy the Academy chose is one of those rare (in District 4) bloodthirsty kids who dream to kill. He strides to the stage with arrogance radiating around his perfectly combed blonde hair, his evenly tanned skin, and his hard, determined dark brown eyes. He looks about my height. But, he is one year older, at 18. He gets to the stage and announces himself.

"Hello, my name is Jassin Gill. And not only will I represent my District, I will be representing the Hunger Games when I go on the Victory Tour! I am proud to be a tribute." Pugy applauds his dramatic speech with much enthusiasm.

"Our District 4 tributes!" Pugy yells, holding up our hands, still while she leads us to the Justice Building. The crowd applauds and I feel like I'm about to throw up as a few more tears leak down my cheeks.

**Jassin Gill D4 Male:**

My blood-red shirt is getting stained with sweat as I swipe dummies aside with my mace. The spikes stick into the cloth, and I smile grimly. I have the whole training center to myself on the reaping day morning. I check the clock on the wall. Shit. I really need to go. I change my shirt to my extra identical one so the sweat won't show. I flatten down my black trousers so they'll be ready to be shown to all of Panem. I leave the training room and sprint down to the center square. Once I get there I get pricked and walk to my spot in the 18-year-old section. I'll say goodbye to my family in the Justice Building later. The extra practice was good. Plus, I'll see them again pretty soon in a couple of weeks.

I comb my hair the right way with my fingers and tune out the mayor. Finally the District Escort, Pugly Gal,comes on.

"Oh, gello, District Tw-Four!" Pugly Gal shouts.

"Now, you betcha I'm gonna pick the girl tribute! Mmmm!" she says as she hops to the side over to the to the girl's pink glass bowl. She picks out a slip of paper, and I cross my fingers for a good career pack partner, but not someone more skilled than me.

"Noelle D'Hell! Come on up darling girl!" shouts Pugly. I smirk. That's the girl the Training Academy chose. What are the odds?

I see her go to the stage, and scoff when I catch her wiping tears away. Wow. Why did the Academy pick her? Well, it's fine. She'll be a handy partner, but I'll enjoy killing her when the time comes.

I hear crying and find the girl's mother in the crowd. She's on the ground literally sobbing, and I just can't really wait to get in the arena and kill my District partner who will weep over her poor mother, and who's mother will weep over her. Seriously, a career crying because they were reaped? It'll be annoying to have to alliance with her.

"Oh, what a wonderful dress you have!" exclaims Pugy, winking at her, and pointing at her dress. Yes, it looks pretty on her, I admit. The red roses match her curly bouncing red hair, and the blue fits her ocean light blue _teary_ eyes pretty nicely. It also fits perfectly on her fit but slender body. I notice her thin eyebrows pointed down as if angry, and her lips pursed in a thin line. She's pretty stupid.

She blushes so hard, I completely forget about her looks and wonder what the Capitol is thinking. _I_ would definitely sponsor myself, not just because I am me. And who would sponsor _her_?

"I thought it was rather embarrassing," she says stupidly. I rest my case.

"Oh, of course it is not, pumpkin! I shall now select the District 4 male tribute!" I almost start cracking up. Pumpkin? Well I can't wait to carve that pumpkin up, bringing out the insides and slicing her to bits, with a sharp point on my side.

She hasn't even read the name when I realize it's my time to shine. To kill, which I was born to do.

I yell out, "I volunteer!"

I stride to the stage confidently, and once I get there I introduce myself. "Hello, my name is Jassin Gill. And not only will I represent my District, I will be representing the Hunger Games when I go on the Victory Tour! I am proud to be a tribute." Pugy applauds my introduction and I smile and wink at the cameras. Getting some early sponsors would be good, plus I'll look even better next to Noelle.

"Our District 4 tributes!" Pugy yells, holding up our hands, still while she leads us to the Justice Building. The crowd applauds and my chest swells up with pride.

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**OMG 12 reviews I'm so proud :') thanks guys! and I will add more on Noelle later, don't worry Elphie :D I've got a way I plan to do it. :D And Jassin, Tigergirl22. I'll reveal who they are! I'll reveal their past, present, and future! hahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I sound like a crazy guy :PPPP ;PPP I didn't want to do them in their homes before the reaping because I thought what I want to do later would fit better so please don't be disappointed!  
**


	7. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

hi! soo OMG 19 reviews! love you guys :') ! this is District 5 reapings :DDDD Almost half way done with the reaping! I don't own HG-I decided to not be lazy :) . OMGOMGOMG thanks Queenjawn and myself (hehehe) for these tributes! OKAY on to the reaping I know you're getting so impatient with me, if you even read these things :D

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**Kat Mireille D5 Female:**

_I walk down the road, getting home late from my summer job at the electricity factory. I'm only eight, but I have a job. I like it though, it makes me feel needed. And daddy and mommy praise me, so I like it even more! _

_I skip down the road, being a bit too loud, but I don't care. I cross the street, and am only about twenty houses away from mine. _

_I'm suddenly on my face, and feel a sharp sting in my cheek, and my nose squished. I realize I've tripped over a rock, I think laughing. Suddenly I'm on my feet, and I feel a something hard forcefully grab the cloth on my back._

_I spin around, and behind me is a lurking dark shadow. I bite my lip in wonderment, and reach my daring hand out into the darkness._

_My jaw shifts as something makes contact with it, and there's a ringing in my ears. I'm suddenly on the floor again, on my back this time. _

_What's happening?_

_I feel something hard stick in my hip. I stare as my pants are starting to be covered with sticky red...blood. And, sticking on my hip is spikes, attached to a weathered wshoe, attached to a leg, attached to a dark shadowy man. _

_I start hyperventilating, and pass out, just as a light flashes by and I hear the rough shout of the peacekeepers on their night neighborhood watch._

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" the quiet air is filled with a shrill scream. I hear pounding up the stairs, quick pattering, and I stand as still as I can. All of my family bursts into the room, and I flinch as a thin silvery strand swings when _it_ moves to the wall.

"What is it, Kat?!" my alarmed father says. My mother starts to rush toward me, but I put a shaking hand up to stop her. I then extend my pointer finger towards the spider, now crawling up the plastered wall.

"Kat! It's just a spider!" my oldest sister says, laughing. My mother sends her a sharp look, comes toward me, and puts an arm around me, while my father picks up the thin metal sheet we keep on my desk for times like this. He quickly swats at the spider, and it gets squished to a black mush on the metal sheet.

"Come, Kat. Let's have breakfast," my mother says, kindly leading us downstairs. I slowly shake my head yes and follow them downstairs so we can have our meager breakfast. I hop down the stairs two by two, and we enter the downstairs room. Upstairs is my sisters and my room, and downstairs is the room of the kitchen, living room, dining room, and my parent's room. The outhouse is outside, a wooden box, where we use the bathroom.

My mother hands each of us a slice of tesserae bread with a dot of peanut-paste. Me and my three sister's all had to enter the reaping extra times to receive the tesserae. Even with my parent's full time jobs (that they have off on reaping days) we don't have enough.

I quietly munch my bread and finish quickly, slipping away and sprinting up the stairs. My sisters join me quickly and we start to get dressed. I wear my gray knee-length dress with white buttons going down the back and cap sleeves. My three sisters dress in a navy blue dress, a light-pink dress, and a olive green dress, all the same style as mine, even with the white buttons on the back. The dresses are all rather plain and boring, but since I am the youngest, I get the most dull one. I don't really care, though. Sticking out isn't my thing. Not since..well, since that time.

"Girls! We have to go," my mother says sticking her head in the view from the staircase. We all go downstairs and slip our shoes on. Cardboard covered in plain black cloth, disguised as sandals by wire wrapped and sewed in black cloth, stitched on by my mother. My mother puts her arm around me, and my father reaches to hold my hand, but I slip out of their grasp and walk in front of them. I can feel my oldest sister's glare boring into my back.

On the way to the square I pick up my best friend, Eve. She was friends with me even before..it happened. After it happened all my friends felt I was closed off and too depressed. But Eve stuck with me. She's the only true friend. She's not even friends with them anymore.

We don't need to talk as we make our way to the reaping to express our thoughts. We solemnly trudge through the streets and finally make it to the center square. I give her a quick, rare, hug and go to get pricked. After I'm pricked I'm shoved next to a bunch of scrawny 16-year-olds and I can't find Eve. So I decide I'll just find her after.

The mayor makes her speech. She's the first female mayor ever in all of the Districts, which says something since it has been 300 years since the Dark Days.

Finally the escort comes up, named Lily Branberry, and I let my shoulders slump as I see her gaudy appearance. Her dress is a huge silver-sparkly ribbon shaped dress (that would make more sense in District 8) and hot pink one-foot high high-heels. I fade into the children next to me, so that even some of them step on my toes and don't notice.

"Hello, District 5! Today is the annual reaping for the now 300th Hunger Games, a Quarter Quell of riddles and what is what and what is not!" she shouts at us with her girlish high-pitched accent.

"The reaping, and the Hunger Games, is a festivity that the Dark Days are over and we are once again one happy nation! They are also to show the districts that rebellion should never happen again! So, without further ado, I shall reap the female tribute for the 300th Hunger Games!" she reaches into the bowl, and I worry for the first time. What if I'm reaped? What if Eve's reaped? All of the fear of the reaping suddenly drops on me. But I have to keep it together.

"Kat Mireille, my darling! Won't you come up!" trills the escort. My eyes widen and I hear silence. No volunteers. So I have to make my way to the stage. To die. I walk slow, forced steps, and finally get there. Once I'm there, I take my place reluctantly on the stage. What's happening?

The escort slowly puts her arm around me, but I slip out from under it. It's her fault, and I won't let a rich Capitol lady even touch me. Though, that will probably happen a lot in the next few weeks of my life.

I think quickly, and find Eve in the crowd. I see her opening her mouth, but I shake my head and send her a look, saying _don't volunteer_. But her mouth opens anyways, and I wince in anticipation.

"How could you let her go in the games! Do you not know what she's been through! This is damn right cruelty! This is nonsense! Do you know of her injury! She's been through more than anyone here, besides the Victors, can imagine! You just can't put her in!" yells Eve, steam literally coming out of her ears, her already frizzy brown hair sticking up messily even more. Oh, no, Eve. You'll be in so much trouble.

Peacekeepers are starting to come toward her, and everyones eyes are on her. I feel like leaping in front of the peacekeepers to protect my friend who stood up for me.

But, before I can even get in a ready position, the escort holds her hand up to stop the peacekeepers. They stop obediently and look expectantly at her, as does everyone else. I let my eyes flick back and forth between her and Eve, in a defiant position.

"Well, friend of Kat. Would you like to volunteer for her?" asks the Escort in a sickly sweet fake voice. I plead Eve not to with my eyes and shaking of head, but Eve looks determined, and opens her mouth to reply.

"Well, I guess not! The male tribute is Barqi Amett!" Eve was to slow for her, so the escort just picked out a boy tribute. I breathe out a sigh of relief, knowing that Eve is safe from the games.

But I'm not.

I realize then who she called for the male tribute, just as the rest of the District does and the air is filled with gasps.

Let me explain who he is. He is the mayor's sons best friend. The mayor, who was male, and an only child, had a wife, and a son. The mayor died, and the son is only twelve, so the wife is now the mayor. But the son is a snotty rich kid who bullies everyone and all of the District secretly hates, but hides it from his mother. And, the boy's, who is named Kennedy Ull, best friend is Barqi Amett, an equally snotty, lazy, self-absorbed, whiny ignorant boy.

And so everyone is surprised he is reaped.

Just as he is.

Because as a path is cleared for him, tears are running down his face, and he's trying to make his usual smirk and sneer go through, but all you see is a scared little boy.

In a fancy outfit, though. Because he made Kennedy let him have a black suit with gold speckles and a gold tie and brown dress shoes. And the mayor's son only wears a gray suit with a black and silver striped tie and black dress shoes. It's still very nice, but Barqi's is nicer.

Barqi is a merchant's son, his parents both owning the only restaurant in the District. Because of that, he is a little on the plump side, though he is super short, because he must be under 5 feet.

He waddles to the stage, and when he gets there, sends leers at the camera while crying, getting his fancy suit stained with wet spots.

He has short combed brown hair, and huge tree-bark brown bug eyes. And he is paler than the snow that has recently this month started to sprinkle on the District.

It looks like the escort wants hold our hands up as she announces us, but she looks disgusted at the boy's wet pudgy palm. So she just yells, "Panem, I give you Kat Mireille and Barqi Amett, your District Five tributes!" I see Barqi smirk one last time, through his tears, before we are lead into the Justice Building.

**Barqi Amett D5 Male:**

"Barqi, honey, time for your breakfast, darling!" calls out my mother, Barry. We get to eat in our restaurant, since it's closed today and we live right above it.

I slide down the stairs on my butt, one by one, and enter the hallway that lead out to the parts of the restaurant.

Let's see, left is the restaurant, and right is the kitchen. Wait.. it may be the other way around. Wait, which way would left be? I hold up my hand and make a L shape, so this way must be left. I go that way, and open the white-painted door. Good, I went the right way. I bound in and plop down on the table, waiting for my mother to finish sprinkling something on our breakfast.

"Motherrrrr! Hurry up, I want to eat already, I'm _hungry_."

"Of course, dear, here you go!" She hands me a plate with my favorite. Cow milk pancakes, strawberries sliced up on top, with a side of bacon, fried to perfection. When I was five she killed one of our pigs, and saved the meat, so that every reaping since then, even though I wasn't eligible before, I could eat bacon. The milk is from our cow, and the strawberries from out bushes, and the flour from the market. Wait, the strawberries. They're all wrong!

"Mother! The strawberries don't form a 'B'!" I like them to form a 'B' on the pancakes for my name.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, honey! I'm just a little flustered today, as it is your first reaping!" she uses her fork to rearrange the strawberry slices, and I stick two pieces of bacon in my mouth.

"Ma," I say in between chews. "Done worry! I wone geh rept!" I say, rolling my eyes and sneering. I didn't get any tesserae, and I've only got my name in once. I've got a 0% chance of getting in. I think that is possible, but I wouldn't really know, I just space out in class.

I gulp down the rest of my breakfast, and take the orange juice my mother has brought me and drink it all down.

"Ah!" I say, patting my stomach. I get up, and face my mother.

"Mother, wheres my reaping outfit?"

"I put it in your room, honey."

"Can you get it for me, I just climbed down all the stairs," I whine.

"Of, course, dear." I smile, I love it when my whine works. She goes up the stairs, and I hear her footsteps come down and stop. I put an ear to the door, and listen to my mother's voice.

"Ben, I'm worried. What if he's reaped? He's too young! I don't want to say this, but he wouldn't survive. Hes bottom of his class, and doesn't even know the District trade! But that's because he's so young, and carefree, and I want him to stay this way! My poor little baby!" she starts weeping, and I roll my eyes. First, of course I could win. Second, who even needs electricity? Third, well, she better hurry up my reaping clothes.

I scurry back to my seat as she opens the door.

"Here, honey. I've got your clothes. We'll be waiting at the front door, take your time, my darling," she quietly shuts the door and I pick up my clothes. I _borrowed_ them from Kennedy, the mayor's son. But it is very unlikely I'll return it. I made him give me this outfit instead of the one he wanted to give me, which he's going to now wear. I feel like I got the better end of the stick.

I slip it on, slowly, and taking my time. I really don't care if we're late, what's the most those stupid 'peacekeepers' could do? When I'm done I walk out to where my parents are. They go on either side of me, holding my hands.

When we get to the square, they pick me up and hug me in between them, squishing me, so I have to push them away. I sneer at the peacekeeper who's pricking me, and when I step away, start sucking on my finger. That hurt!

People step out of my way as I walk toward Kennedy, because they don't want to be met by my wrath.

"Hey, Ken. I wonder what stupid bloke will get killed this year, eh?"

"Ha. I hope it's wimpy Alexander. Though I _would_ miss tormenting him in the hallways."

We chat some more as the mayor makes his speech, and some even dare to shush us as the escort comes up. We roll our eyes and smirk while watching the escort. She's in such an ugly outfit, I'd probably die if I was reaped just by having to stand next to her.

"Hello, District 5! Today is the annual reaping for the now 300th Hunger Games, a Quarter Quell of riddles and what is what and what is not!" she screams in the Capitol's silly voice.

"The reaping, and the Hunger Games, is a festivity that the Dark Days are over and we are once again one happy nation! They are also to show the districts that rebellion should never happen again! So, without further ado, I shall reap the female tribute for the 300th Hunger Games!" she reaches into the bowl, and I laugh, trying to guess who it will be.

"Kat Mireille, my darling! Won't you come up!" shouts the lady. A girl comes out of the crowd, looking so downcast, that me and Ken chuckle to each other. She has a silly button nose, hair the color of ginger in mother's food, except very more ginger-ish, pale skin, probably from fright, and is pretty short. She must be only a couple inches taller than me. Wow. _And_, she was coming out of the 16-year-old section, while I'm only 12. That's... that's... well, that's a good amount of years older than me.

The escort slowly puts her arm around the girl, but the girl dodges out from under it.

"Great way to get the Capitol to like you," I say to Ken, sarcastically.

He chuckles back to me, and suddenly there's shouting. I cover my ears, but can still hear it.

"How could you let her go in the games! Do you not know what she's been through! This is damn right cruelty! This is nonsense! Do you know of her injury! She's been through more than anyone here, besides the Victors, can imagine! You just can't put her in!" yells someone, though I can't find who in the crowd.

Peacekeepers start to go towards the 16-year-old section, and me and Ken start laughing. This girl's, Kat's, friend, I'm guessing, is _actually_ trying to stand up to the Capitol! I'm laughing so much that I have to wipe tears away from my eyes.

The escort holds up her hand, and I look in anticipation to see what will happen next.

"Well, friend of Kat. Would you like to volunteer for her?" asks the Escort, and I hear no response, so that makes me and Ken laugh more that this girl would say such things and then not even volunteer.

"Well, I guess not! The male tribute is Barqi Amett!" Me and Ken don't even have time to think about if wimpy Alexander is reaped, because the name is already chosen. Who is the idiot who was reaped?

Oh, no.

It's me.

She said Barqi Amett.

Tears form in my eyes and start pouring down my face. I can't go, I can't! Why doesn't someone volunteer! I try smirking and sneering, and try my best to look confident. I am confident. Like I thought earlier, I could win this.

Then why am I crying? Stupid tears! I can't go in the games, I can't!

Before I can yell out, 'Why doesn't anyone volunteer! I'm only twelve!' the escort yells, "Panem, I give you Kat Mireille and Barqi Amett, your District Five tributes!" I find my parents, and see them weeping in the crowds, my father holding my mother is his arms. They don't believe in me. But I'll show them. I send a final smirk to the cameras, which I find the Capitol will think is award winning, before I am lead into the Justice Building, with tears still pouring down my face.

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BTW I just realized that in this syot the tributes so far seem to be mostly depressed people just realized that :/

Well, I don't blame them for that. Their world is pretty horrible, and they are most likely going to die, so ya. :/ Review and tell me your fav tributes so far! :D


	8. Chapter 6

**Authors Note:** hi! So half way through, because this is District 6! OMG! Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and favoriters! :DDDDDDD PS I do not own HG-still not lazy :D

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**Saffron Lowsari D6 Female:**

"Saffron, sit up straight! Tate _never_ slouched!"

"Saffron, _how_ could you get such a bad grade! Tate _always_ got perfect grades!"

"Saffron, _why_ do you talk so much that it is getting _rude_? Tate _never_ would have done that!"

Today, on reaping day, these words plague my mind.

To volunteer, to not volunteer, to volunteer, to not volunteer.

I decided I was too young last year. But I've had a whole year to train even more.

To show that I could do what Tate couldn't. Because mouse mutts killed her. But they won't kill me. Because I will win. After all these years of not living up to Tate. I've decided I will volunteer.

"Saffron! Speak when you are spoken to!" my mother scolds me, bringing me out of my reverie, muttering how Tate always payed attention.

"I'm sorry, mother. But you do know what day it is, and you do know the stress, and how I could be reaped, or Queenie, or Merry, and-"

"Don't talk such nonsense, Saffron. You won't get reaped," my father says, gulping. I do think they would be sad if I were to be reaped. But, they were more sad about Tate being reaped then if I would be reaped. But I won't have to be reaped. Because I'm volunteering.

"Of course, father. I-"

"Hurry up, Saffron. We don't have all day, if we don't make it to the reaping in-"

"Yes, I _know_ mother. We'll get in trouble with the peacekeepers. I'm hurrying as fast as I can!" I say, demonstrating it by taking a big bite out of my toast and chewing rapidly.

"Saffron. Do not backtalk your mother. Tate would have never done that," my father chastises me.

I quickly nod my head, but think bitterly, yes, well Tate is _dead_, so she never got a chance.

"Come on, Saffron. Queenie is all ready, we have to go, you can finish your toast later," my father says as he and my mother leave the room and step out onto the porch, beckoning me out.

"Mother! Father! But I'm not dressed yet!" I say quickly. How can I leave in my nightgown?

"Oh, Saffron, go and get dressed then," my mother says, rolling her eyes.

"Tate was always ready for anything that came her way," I hear my father whisper, as I walk down the hallway to my room. Well, she wasn't. She wasn't ready for those mouse mutts.

I finally get to my room and take the dress hanging on the door, and slip it on. It has a yellow skirt covered in orange butterflies and a pale green top. I decide I should take the time to comb out my dirty blonde hair for the cameras. I'm almost done, but I hear my mother calling me, so I quickly do the rest of my hair and jog out to the porch. There I slip on a pair of beige flats. Then I follow my family to the square. My mother is holding Queenie's (my little sister) hand, and my father is chatting with my mother. Queenie is my parent's second favorite child. Their first is Tate. Who is dead. Queenie isn't mean to me, and she doesn't make them be nice to her and not me. So I don't blame her for anything. We even look alike. We both have short dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. Plus, she's only a year younger than me, so we are pretty close.

"Saffron! Saffy! Saff!" yells a voice from behind me. I spin around on my heels and grin. Merry Risel. My best friend. She is the opposite of me, though, with long dark brown wavy hair and navy blue eyes, and golden tan skin.

"Merry!" We embrace each other in a hug mid-way, and I start chatting to her.

"They're at it again. Tate this, Tate that. But whatever. They almost had me leave in my nightgown, though! Oh, Merry, I can't believe it's already reaping day. Merry-"

"Saff? Please tell me you're not thinking of volunteering?" She's been scared that I'll volunteer ever since she saw me training with a makeshift staff behind my house.

"Well, I don't know, Merry," I say reluctantly. I don't want to tell her I'm volunteering, but, well, I am.

"Oh, Saff! You can't volunteer! Your only thirteen! I'm sorry to say this, but thirteen-year-olds don't win the Hunger Games!"

"But I've trained, Merry! And-"

"Saff! So has huge 18-year-olds that _want_ to kill people! That have been training since they were five, not since they were ten! For thirteen years, your whole life, not just three years! A whole extra ten years makes a difference! Come on, think, Saff! Don't volunteer! Who will I have to keep me company? My mother and my father will be all, and they'll wither away-"

"Fine, Merry. I won't volunteer. I'll stay here and whither away with you," I give her a wink.

"Oh, good, Saff, thank you. Seems that noggin of your isn't to banged up!"

"Oh, Merry, Merry,Merry," I say with fake disappointment, and then look up and laugh with her. I can't believe I lied to her. How will she feel when I do volunteer?

After more chatting, we reach the square, and I give her a tight squeeze before we go our separate ways to get pricked. I see in the distance Queenie going to the 12-year-old section. This is her first year. I bit my lip. I hope she's not scared. I hope she knows that even if she is reaped, I will be volunteering. After I get pricked I go to the 13-year-old section. Some around me are crying, some are trying to comfort others, some are trying to find comfort in others, but none are Merry. I really wanted to see her, but I guess I'll just have to wait till the goodbyes in the Justice Building. After the mayor makes a speech, a slide show is shown, and he sits down, the escort comes up. Her name is Marilyn Kostman. Today she has a rather interesting getup. She's wearing a very short see-through glittery and sparkly pink dress and attached to the back are gold feathery fluffy angel wings. She's wearing super tall black high-heels with silver sparkly straps on them. I have to cover my eyes as her butt basically sticks out and so does her chest.

"Hello, District 6! It is sooo great to be here! I really can't wait to start the reaping! So I might as well start!" she giggles as she reaches into the bowl. It's extra special this year to match her outfit, light pink transparent with gold sparkles.

"Faith Candice!" Faith. I don't know a Faith, but I see a girl next to me look fearful, and another girl step out of the 15-year-old section that looks like an exact older version of her. It's time to volunteer.

"I volunteer!" Eyes turn towards me, all asking, is this a joke? A volunteer? Is it a sister of Faith? But, no, this girl looks nothing like Faith.

I make my way to the stage, and try to muster all of the confidence I can. I need to look as strong as a career. So I hold my head high and take purposeful steps to the stage.

I see a confused Faith go back to the 15-year-old section.

"What would your name be, and why did you volunteer?" asks Marilyn.

"My name is Saffron Lowsari, and-" I think quickly. What should I say? The Capitol audience wouldn't like it if I said I volunteered to prove my parents wrong. "And I volunteered to bring fortune and honor to my District." There, the Capitol will eat that right up.

"Wonderful, Saffron!"she says, patting me on the back.

First I see my parents in the crowd. They're standing, wide-eyed and shocked, mouths slightly hanging open. Then I see Queenie, who is silently crying to herself. Finally, and reluctantly, I find Merry in the crowd. She catches my eye, and looks a bit mad. But she is also crying. I'll just have to get home to her.

"Now, the male tribute!"

Marilyn picks out a male name, and reads it slowly.

"Jackson Barrier!" although it sounds like,"Ja-ck-son... Bare..E-rr!" I see a frightened boy make his way to the stage. He's shaking and trembling, as he knows that a volunteer like me is rare, and that two volunteers would be almost impossible. He's coming out of the 12-year-old section, and I feel like I know him from somewhere, like maybe Queenie knows him.

"I volunteer!" yells a voice, and I am so shocked, I almost fall over. But, the boy does, he drops to his knees, hopeful but sad. I look up, and find a guy striding toward the steps from the 16-year-old section. He looks powerful. He has dark brown eyes, dark brown hair falling in front of his face, and is very tall. Next to him, I would look like a midget. Once he reaches the stage he starts talking.

"My name is Jimmy Kotyer. I'm here to avenge my mother, and will kill anyone from any of the Districts that tributes were from that killed her." His face is like stone and his eyes unforgiving, but in the back of them I see kindness.

"Well, two volunteers! What a turnout! How interesting! Well, Panem, I give you your District 6 tributes!" she holds up our hands, and we are lead into the Justice Building before I can even start to see the reactions of what just happened sink into people's minds. Two volunteers. I volunteered for the games. No more happy, bubbly, carefree Saffron. I am a tribute.

**Jimmy Jotyer D6 Male:**

_"Honey! I...we..we have a child!"_

_"We have to name him Jimmy, honey, after you." She smiles at the thought._

_..._

_"Jimmy Kotyer!" she gasps as her name is called. But, but, she just had a child. That day! How can she fight? She makes her way weakly to the stage, and tries to look confident._

_"Xanders Philio!" gasps fill the air. That man just had his child, Xander, a week ago._

_..._

_"Hello, District 6 tributes. Having a little party, are you? Why were we not invited? Never mind that, we're crashing the party," sneers the District 2 male. Another career bashes Xanders head against the ground, and someone else starts to slowly carve up Jimmy. Screams fill the air._

And suddenly the screams are real. A dream, oh, why do these dreams come to me today? Never mind, they just make me want to try harder. I throw the covers up and make my way towards the window.

"Xander!" I yell as I slide the creaky window open.

"Ya, Jimmy?"

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Are you volunteering, Jimmy?"

"Xander, you know I have to. If I don't, well. I just have to."

"Jimmy. I don't want you to. But I understand."

I nod, and close the window. Volunteering day. I have to volunteer. I have to kill all of the careers.

I slip on my reaping outfit. Black pants, a fancy clean white shirt, and dressy black shoes. The shirt is short-sleeved so it shows my muscles. I grab my beloved token off of my dresser and slip it into my pocket.

I bound down the hallway and go towards the kitchen.

My father is there, head in hands, rubbing his temples, and leaning on the eating table. He is remembering this day many years ago.

"Father?" He looks up quickly and springs up.

"Jimmy! Happy birthday!" he croaks out, and I try to send him a reassuring smile, and I get out a half-hearted lift of the corners of my lips.

"Oh, my boy, we must get you a meal. Let's see, let's see. We have bread, I guess that will have to do. And a glass of milk, eh?" he asks as he starts to get the bread and a knife out.

"Father, I can do it. Sit down," I say, patting his shoulder. He smiles gratefully, and I cut myself a slice and pour half a glass of milk. I sit down and start munching, and my father looks up.

"Jimmy, you must have some more milk, you took barely a sip."

"Father, I won't starve if I take a sip less. I'm fine," I say, smiling.

"Oh well. Are you sure you're full?"

I nod and take my empty plate to the sink. Then we step outside and go across the thin strip of grass to Xander's side door. I knock twice on it, and Xander's mother opens it. She's a poor withered women, with a curved back and messy hair, but a nice smile and kind words.

"Hello, Jane," I say. She likes to be addressed by her first name, so I do that.

"Hello Jimmy, hello Josh. Xander is right upstairs, he'll be down soon. And, happy birthday, honey." Just as she says it, his head pops into view through the door frame.

"Someone call me name?"

"Not exactly," I say slyly. He comes out and puts his arm around my shoulder.

"Ahh, Jimmy, hello," he says solemnly, and I nod my head to him.

"Happy birthday." I smile appreciatively to him, because I hate it when someone drags my birthday out and talks nonstop about it. Because my birthday is the day fate decided my mother should die. So I just like a quick, simple, 'happy birthday.' Of course, someone who is basically a brother to me, Xander, would know that.

We make our way to the square, his arm still around my shouler.

"So, how're you going to frighten off the careers?" Xander asks.

"By doing this," I reply, grinning maniacally and crossing my eyes.

"Oh, dude, that is _creepy_!" he yells and starts laughing. We enter the square, and wish each other luck, and I sense Xander's eyes lingering on me. After I'm pricked I go to the 16-year-old section, and luckily, I end up next to Xander. The mayor talks, and then the escort comes up, named Marilyn. She's very provocative, and me and Xander shield our eyes as she shows off her body.

"Hello, District 6! It is sooo great to be here! I really can't wait to start the reaping! So I might as well start!" I frown as she reaches into the bowl. Who might I have to kill?

"Faith Candice!" Faith. Hmmm. The name doesn't really ring a bell. I see her making her way to the stage, and my thoughts are interrupted by an "I volunteer!" I quickly find the voice, and am surprised for two reasons. One, I thought I'd be the only volunteer. I don't think District 6 has ever had a volunteer. Also, the second reason is, this girl came out of the 13-year-old section! Is she crazy?! She's so young! Faith had a better chance than her.

She makes her way to the stage, and I must say, she looks pretty confident.

"What would your name be, and why did you volunteer?" asks Marilyn.

"My name is Saffron Lowsari, and-" She stops for a second, probably trying to think of a good response. "And I volunteered to bring fortune and honor to my District." I snort. That was a big lie. I'm a lie detector, but that, well, anyone besides the dense Capitol could tell it was a lie. But what was she supposed to say?

"Wonderful, Saffron!"she says, patting her back.

"Now, the male tribute!" Marilyn yells, happily.

Marilyn picks out a male name, and reads it, taking a million years to read it.

"Jackson Barrier!" I see a small boy whimpering go to the stage. He's shaking and looks like he is going to throw up.

"I volunteer!" I yell, striding toward the stage, taking long confident steps. I hear gasps, as more people realize there were two volunteers.

"My name is Jimmy Kotyer. I'm here to avenge my mother, and will kill anyone from any of the Districts that tributes were from that killed her," I say even before Marilyn asks. I try to look confident, but I falter a little when I see my father, shocked and crying.

"Well, two volunteers! What a turnout! How interesting! Well, Panem, I give you your District 6 tributes!" she holds up our hands, and we are lead into the Justice Building, and I just know that either this is my end or my very beginning.

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OMG half way through! And 21 reviews! I'm so happy! PM me if you want to, I love PMs! And review review review! :DDD who do you like best so far? Who do you like least? Do you hate anyone?


	9. Chapter 7

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**  
hi! OMG 28 reviews! District **7**! More than half way done! OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG DISTRICT 7! OK I'M REALLY **HYPER** RIGHT **NOW!** BTW I DON'T OWN HG! Lazy Lazy, not!***DISCLAIMER* **

**Thank you Superdude2062 and Vulkodlak for the D7 tributes! :DDDDDDDDDDDDD  
**

Okay that was when I started writing it the other day but right now I am exhausted from standing in a line for 2 hours, commuting for 1 hour, and doing the thing I went to do for like half an hour. I'm soooo tired ZzZzzzzzZZZzzzZzzZZZzzzz

ok that was some days ago and right now I just feel guilty for not updating for so long, so I'm gonna try to whip this out but do a great job! :DDDD please review it will seriously make my day! :DDDDDDDDD like when I see a new review I feel like dancing :D cause my life outside of this is so amazing :P

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**Jamie Burnside D7** **Female:**

_The meadow is so clear here. The air smells of flowers and freshness, and when I dig my fingers into the soil, it feels cool and wet. I skip along, my feet lightly barely touching the ground as I soar through the air with excitement, smelling flowers as I go by, and saying hello to the brightly colored butterflies and birds. _

_In the distance I see a strange object. Oh, it is not strange because it is fluffy. My stuffed animal of the long extinct elephant. _

_"Fluffy!" I call. And fluffy's head turns toward me. And he starts growing and growling. Larger and larger. His tusks getting hard and pointy. His black bead eyes turning into bright red lights. And he comes running towards me._

_"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

"AHHHHHHH!" I feel shaking and wake up to find that someone is screaming. Oh wait, that someone is me. I'm all tangled up in the covers, still screaming, sweat pouring down my face, my parents trying to get me out, and my fist clutching a worn out fluffy.

"Jamie, Jamie, it's all right," soothes Mama as she lifts me out of the bed and into her arms. Her shoulder is getting wet as I sob into it.

"Mama," I say in between cries. "I had.. another... nightmare!" I finish with a great intake of breath. Papa comes over and rubs my back, and I look up at him with my tear-stained cheeks and red blurry eyes.

"Papa, Mama, what.." I start sniffling now. "What if I'm reaped!" sobs shake my body as I hold onto Mama as tight as I can.

"Jamie, don't worry, Jamie, you won't be reaped, don't worry," Papa reassures me. I nod my head, but I'm still reluctant to believe them. I've got my name in four times. That can make a big difference.

"Jamie, come on, darling Jamie, have a bite to eat," Mama says, picking me up and bringing me to the dining table, setting me down on one of the chairs. Mama brings me a slice of tesserae bread covered in goat cheese.

"Here, honey, special treat for this day," Mama tells me as she sets the food in front of me, watching me lovingly. Our goat cheese is very rare, and Mama and Papa giving me this is very nice.

"Thank you Mama, thank you Papa," I say as I pick up a piece of toast with one hand, my other hand still holding Fluffy.

After I'm done, I get up and bring the dish to the counter. After the day is over, me and Mama will wash all the dishes, and the laundry, in the stream. Normally, right now, Mama, Papa, and I would be heading to work to chop down trees. Well, they chop trees. I plant new ones since I'm not strong enough to hold an axe.

"Jamie, your outfit is here, do you want help?" asks my mother, handing me my clothes.

"No, thank you Mama," I say, taking deep breathes to stop the tears. I take my nightgown off and already have an undershirt and short shorts on, so I just slip my shirt and skirt over them. My shirt is a cream colored lace shirt and my skirt is a wavy baby blue skirt. I twirl around, and Mama and Papa laugh and smile as they bring my shoes over.

They hand me a pair of light brown sneakers with dark brown lace.

"Thank you Mama!" I say as I tuck my feet into them.

"Mama, Papa?" I ask, scared.

"Yes honey?" Mama answers, tucking a strand of my short brown hair behind my ear.

"Is it time to go to the reaping?" I say in a small, barely audible voice. She nods her head, and I suck in my breathe once more.

"I think I'm ready," I say, feeling my body slightly shake. Mama takes my hand, and Papa takes my other, and I pick up fluffy as we walk out of the door and to the reaping. The streets are empty, with only a few people walking to the reaping, heads down and bags under their eyes. Not many people live in the small area my family lives in.

We get to the reaping, and I start to think. Why does the Capitol plan for children to die each year? Oh, please don't be me! Oh, how could you say that, Jamie? That means that you would want someone else to die! Unless somehow District 7 had a victor this year.

Mama gives me a quick peck on the cheek, and Papa ruffles up my hair, but I don't want them to leave. I don't want to have the possibility of getting reaped.

"Mama! Papa! Don't leave me! Oh, please don't!" I'm practically begging, tears prickling in my eyes.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. But we can't go with you. We are so sorry." I nod my head and swallow the lump in my throat. My hand starts shaking the second the tips of our finger part, and they are carried away by the crowd.

Oh, now I have to get pricked. I've never done this before, and I hope it doesn't hurt.

I walk over to the line, but I fall over.

Because William pushed me, while walking to the line. And Fluffy falls into a puddle of mud, being soaked in sludgy dirt and covered in pine needles.

"Oops, sorry, didn't see you there, Banshee!" he shouts, snickering. Oh, I hate that name! Ever since the kids at school realized I get scared a lot, they scare me and I scream, so they call me Banshee because that mythical creature screams a lot. It just sounds so horrible!

So, standing up, I wipe myself down and get in line, a couple people before William, trying to shake the dirt off of Fluffy, and apologizing as some of it sprays onto nearby children.

And now I'm on the ground again. Because Williams group is here. He's the leader, but the others are Ash, a tall muscular boy who's more brute than smart and already chops down the trees with the grownups, and Oakley, a feisty boy who tortures people with words. He comes up with all the witty remarks to bully people with. Then there's Ashley, Ash's sister. She's taller than him, big-boned, dog-faced, and aggressive. I move over a little so I am shielding Fluffy from them. They sometimes steal him and torment me by ripping him, which Mama fixes, or, one time, almost burning him until I did their homework, gave them some money, and let them take my work credit for a week. So I had to work five times as much as usual.

"Fancy seeing you here, eh? We thought you'd chicken out and not even come!" exclaims Oakley, as the others nudge him and nod their heads in encouragement and agreement.

"Hey, guys, come over here, it'd be fun to see if she can even get up! Too scared that if she gets up something will happen, eh? Like the Thorn will come back to her, eh?!" calls William. They all push the people in front of them to the side, and they abide quickly, not wanting to get on the bad side of the Thorn Group. Because that's their name. I find it rather stupid and obvious, though. And their only twelve. So they only bully the twelve year olds and under. Sometimes a really weak thirteen year old. And they throw rocks and tree chips stuck in their shoes and around on the ground at the past Victors. Though, there aren't many. Just four. Just four alive, there's been more, though. One from the 268th game, one from the 275th game, one from the 292nd game and one from the 294th game. The first one won when she was eighteen, so now she's fifty. The second Victor won when he was fifteen, so he's forty, and the third won when she was sixteen, so she's now twenty four. The fourth won when he was fourteen, so now he's twenty. I think those are correct. I suddenly see the Thorns all laughing at me, thinking I'm afraid to get up, because I've been sitting here for about a minute. But I was just thinking.

So, I quickly spring up and wipe down my skirt again, carefully picking Fluffy up. When me and Mama do the dishes she'll help me wash him in the stream. I let some people get in the line ahead of me, to put more distance in between me and the Thorns, and then get in line myself. Too soon it is my turn to be pricked. Ahead of me I had seen some kids wince as they were pricked, but I still hope it doesn't hurt too much, despite how it looks.

The peacekeeper reaches toward my finger, and sticks a pin in the top. It stings. Really bad. I have to bite my lip to stop the tears from coming. Because this all leads up to something horrible. A pain way worse than this. In the arena. If I'm reaped. Death.

I shudder and bite my lip to stop the wetness forming in my eyes.

I'm spacing out, and I see the peacekeepers lips moving, but I hear no words except my own thoughts. My thoughts are interrupted, though, as he starts screaming at me to wipe my finger on the paper and to get the (I won't even say it, let alone think it) out of there, so the line can move on. Some immature kids go 'Oooooh!' and I ignore them. I quickly press my finger down, and scurry to the 12-year-old section as fast as I can.

I wait, and savor these last moments. When all the kids have been pricked, the mayor comes up. Mayor Tumbler. His family has had all of the mayors in District 7, passing on from parent to child, or sometimes mayor to niece or nephew.

"Well, good morning, District 7. Now, today is the reaping day, where twenty-four children total from all of the twelve districts will have a chance of honor and fame. Today is the day that the people of Panem know that the Dark Days must never happen again. And this is the 300th year. Now, I will show you a slide show." He says this all mechanically and as if he were a robot that is made in District 3 and dwells in the Capitol to serve them. He seems like he's just hiding all his emotions because he doesn't want to start crying. I feel bad for him; lots of people don't like the mayor and his family because they're rich and the Capitol favors them in our district. There's a slide show and I let silent tears slide down my face as I see bombs erupt and people fighting and killing each other. The games just repeat the Dark Days.

"Hello, District 7! It's such an honor to be here! I'd like to wish the soon to be tributes luck and hope we have some survivors this year! Now I'm going to pick the female tribute of District 7 for the 300th Hunger Games!" yells the District Escort, Jay-Jay Shimmer. She takes a slip of paper out of the female bowl and I cross my fingers. Oh, it can't be me! Don't be me, oh please don't! I weep silently to myself.

"Jamie Burnside! Come up please, Jamie!" No! No, no, no! It can't be. She read the wrong name. The wrong name. I sob and my body shakes as peacekeepers come towards me.

"Mama! Papa!" I scream. I can't go in the games! Oh, Jamie, force yourself. Walk to the stage, come on. So I make my way slowly to the stage and the peacekeepers walk next to me, just in case. I sob more and Jay-Jay puts her arm around my shoulders and squeezes my hand reassuringly.

"Any volunteers?" she asks hopefully. She's met by silence and I realize that means I am going into the games. So I just cry more, fat tears pouring down my face.

"Alright, then! Jamie's a survivor anyways!" that couldn't be any less true, I think with sobs.

"Now I'll reap the male tribute!" she says brightly, and leaving me alone she walks to the male bowl. Who will join me? Will they be nice? Will we alliance? I won't have time for an alliance, though, I won't last that long, I think with more cries.

"And the male tribute is... Oakley Hans!" I find Oakley quickly and see his shocked face. Oh, no! I start crying more. He's just going to torment me in the arena now!

"I volunteer." I hear a monotone voice say. I could only hear him because everyone else is silent during the reapings. How.. how could there be a volunteer? Will they be strong? Will they kill me? Oh, no, now I'm just crying more!

A boy walks out of the 18-year-old section with a scowl on his hard face. He's a little chubby and is pretty short for a 18-year-old, but he has very dark tan skin that goes with his somber demeanor. He looks muscular, probably from chopping trees, but his shoulders are narrow. I don't recognize him, but he must be crazy! He's volunteering! Oh, no, and he'll crazily kill me in the games now, torture me worse than Oakley would!

He's wearing simple ripped dark jeans and a old worn out button up brown cotton shirt with pine needles sticking in his dark hair.

Once he gets to the stage he grabs the microphone from Jay-Jay and gruffly says, "my names Finch Aspen. I'll either win this or I'll die." Jay-Jay stares him with her mouth open a little, no sure what to do, not expecting a volunteer.

"W-w, Well, Finch! Okay, um, our District 7 tributes!"

I stare at him and he's still scowling giving the cameras disgusted looks. He scares me. He wants to win. Or he wants to die. I don't understand. I guess I won't have long to ponder this before I'm gone.

**Finch Aspen D7 Male:**

Those kids whining and crying about the pricking and the games. Throwing things at the Victors. They're just so messed up. They'll die anyways. Who cares if you killed someone? That person would've died anyway, and you're just saving the world from having the insufferable brat live longer. They probably wouldn't amount to anything, and you're saving them the trouble of trying. But I prefer not to mess with that. I'll let them waste space. But I can amount to something and live long and rich. Or I can die without doing anything. One or the other, nothing in between. No whining about the problems that never stop. Because the problems don't go away, but you can go around them. Go through the loophole, let's say. Like, you can't stop the games. That would be basically impossible. So, you can abide quietly and die, or you can abide quietly and fight and kill and win. Nothing in between. In between is a devil phrase.

Like my seven siblings. They hate me. But maybe they hate me but in their stupid hearts deep deep down love me. I don't like that. Which, of course, I remind them countless times. They're going in the middle. Of course we aren't close and they hate my attitude, but I'd rather they either agree with me on everything or just avoid me as I avoid them. But, of course, we live in the same house. Ten people in one house. Not exactly a savory number. But I don't avoid it. Because it's not like I can. So I don't try. The family would never let me move out, and I have a roof over my head and food on the table, even if I have to work hard for it, so I'm fine. I don't care if they hate me. They're just ignorant. They're scared of the Games. They hate the Games. Stupid. You go to the games and die, or you go and win. It's simple. Non-changing. The way of the world.

But at a time like this I am forced to walk with my family to the reaping. They're all holding hands, weeping, being asses and stupid. To bad for them. I'm alone, like I will be in the arena. No alliance, probably no sponsors. But, I don't need them. I will die without them or win alone and rich by myself. Move into Victors Village by myself. Of course, I'll have to mentor if I do win, which I can't avoid. But I won't really help the tributes, so they might realize that and I can go back to being alone.

So when we reach the gate leading to the center of the village I go through the door ahead of my family, scowling at the crying, and I get pricked. Non-avoidable. And it doesn't even hurt. The little kiddies let it get to them. They cry. It stops their little bit of almost non-existent strength, when it isn't even an obstacle. It's like a feather.

Or the mayor. He could be rich. He could suck up to the Capitol and play by their rules. Or he could give up his position as mayor and be weak and poor. But instead he is a unhappy man that the District hates for stupid reasons. If they were smart they could be rich and the Capitol would love them, but instead they hate the stupid ass mayor and therefore they are stupid. But I will do the smart thing. Because if I go to the games I'll either be rich and one of the smartest people there is, or I'll die. Either way there will be no whining, no wasting time, and no letting anything get in my way of success. I won't be insubordinate and I'll conquer the games or I'll die young and right away without a chance.

"Hello, District 7! It's such an honor to be here! I'd like to wish the soon to be tributes luck and hope we have some survivors this year! Now I'm going to pick the female tribute of District 7 for the 300th Hunger Games!" the District Escort, who's name is the stupid ass name of Jay-Jay, yells to us with her high-pitched squeaky voice into the microphone that is crackling and hurting most of everyone's ears. Except mine. Because since I can't avoid the sound, I won't be weakened by it. It doesn't bother me.

"Jamie Burnside! Come up please, Jamie!" She reads from her slip of paper, her eyes squinted even when I know she can read the name perfectly fine without doing that.

"Mama! Papa!" a high shrill voice screams from the 12-year-old female section. Whoever that girl is, she is a stupid ass. Does she think calling for her parents will help her? Does she think they'll tell the Capitol that they won't let their daughter go? How does she think she will avoid this? She can't. So she's ass stupid for trying. She should just abide. You can't escape the Hunger Games, and she'll die sooner than later anyways without the Games, so she should go and die. Save herself the trouble of wasting space in the world and doing nothing important and then dying. Better to die right then. That's why I need to volunteer. If I don't I won't amount to anything. Because if you live in one of the districts the only thing you can accomplish that's worthwhile is winning the games. So I'd rather go into the games and die my destiny death, or go and win and be rich. No one but me would understand. Others are too thick. They don't understand the ways of life.

"Any volunteers?" asks Jay-Jay once this Jamie girl has finally decided that she can't deny her fate for now and has gone to the stage, but is crying. She's a weak whiny thing that doesn't deserve a place in the world. I hope she doesn't make it far in the games.

"Alright, then! Jamie's a survivor anyways!" trills Jay-Jay. Huh. Even the Capitol, the controllers, the ones whom you have to abide by, can be very thick. Well, I think Jay-Jay just said that to make this Jamie girl feel better. But, to make Jamie even have the slightest hope and not realize she will die is a crime.

"Now I'll reap the male tribute!" she says cheerily, and I set my scowl deeper on my face. This Jamie girl will be no competition. But I'll let someone like the careers take care of her.

"And the male tribute is... Oakley Hans!" Oakley Hans? Never heard of him. Probably some ass stupid boy that would go perfectly with Jamie. To bad I'm volunteering.

"I volunteer." I say this quietly, plainly, as I see no point in shouting like the careers on the tapes. Since I am the only one who is smart here to volunteer. And the square is silent so everyone can hear me. So why waste my breathe?

I go to the stage scowling and looking as mad as I can. I won't avoid who I am. I can't avoid that obstacle. I can only abide by it.

I get to the stage, and with the wooden boards creaking under my feet I lean over and grab Jay-Jay's microphone, saying into it "my names Finch Aspen. I'll either win this or I'll die," and then pushing it back into her hand. She stares at me with an ass stupid look on her face and a gaping mouth, and I scowl at her. I'm the smart one here. The only smart one. I'll rise out of my ass stupid poor family that has no goal in life and I'll either go to the dirt in a wooden box or I'll be rich and victorious and famous.

"W-w, Well, Finch! Okay, um, our District 7 tributes!"

I send the cameras scowls and I stare Jamie down. She should get a taste of what will happen soon. The inevitable. Her death.


	10. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** hi! :DDD okay so D8 here! I don't own HG now I will get right to the point- the story! :D

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**Artemis Rose D8 Female:**

_"Here's the deed to your house. No replacements. It's damaged, the deed or the house, and you're out. Good day, sir," says the burly peacekeeper, handing the crisp white paper to Artemis's older brother. She's behind him, as always, and is smiling. No more camping out on the streets for them. Though it has only been a little less than a month, it's felt like a year to them. Their parents passed away about two months ago, and their house went to the peacekeepers. Finally they're able to get it back, only because they've both recently got jobs-at the textiles factory, of course._

_The whole month on the streets has been filled with Artemis's ranting about how cruel the Capitol is. But she stopped. Because, when she was talking about it with a fellow worker, a peacekeeper overheard. And, to teach them a lesson, well, he whipped her coworker, and told Artemis to bring the woman to the doctor, if she survives that long. Artemis brought the bloodied women to the town doctor, and was crying earnestly. The women was barely saved... but the rumors spread and the women's family hated her. The women is now disabled. District 8 is overall favored by the Capitol out of the non-career districts, because of how they make Capitol clothes. So, after the incident, Artemis's name was spread throughout the District. Generally hated, she only shared her thoughts with her brother in the confines of their home. They find her the cause that pay for the workers has been lowered._ _10 year old Artemis and her 16-year-old brother begin their new life. Them against the world._

"Artemis, come on, you have to get up, it's the reaping," my brother says, shaking my shoulder. I'm already up. And I know what day it is, of course, and I'm filled with dread. After today, of course, I'll be free, I'll be safe, but not today. My last day of being stuck over a pit of lava, of me getting closer and closer to death, is over after today. My last reaping. But I don't want to face my fears. It may sound cowardly, but I'd rather lie here in rest. So, I jokingly turn over and push the pillow over my face, blocking out my brother's voice.

"Artemis, I know you can hear me!" I hear, his voice slipping under my pillow. He pulls my covers back and I yelp as I'm instantly cold.

"I'm up, I'm up, and I'll be up faster if you bring me my robe!" I say happily, winking at him. He rolls his eyes and brings my robe over from the hanger on my bedroom door, and I slip it on, hugging my arms around my now warm body from this furry piece of clothing.

"You sleep well?" I ask cheerfully as I bound down the hallway to our living room/dining room. I know it's a horrible day, but I'm going to try to stay as positive and optimistic as possible.

"Ya, I did, what about you, sis?"

He asks this concerned, and I wave my hand in the air and reply, "Ya, a night filled with clouds and rainbows, don't worry 'bout me, bro, but what I'm worrying about is my stomach. Rumbling like crazy, let's see, what food do we have?" I swing open the cupboard and grab a loaf of bread, marmalade, and utensils.

"Woah, hold it. Let me help," my brother says, taking the loaf of bread, and I am able to switch the marmalade to the freed hand. We make our way to the table and plop it all down.

"Hey, sis, can you get the plates?" I nod my head and take the plates from the counter next to the sink and push them under the bread covered in marmalade. Mmmm...

I take a bit bite of the bread and jam and close my eyes, shivering with pleasure.

"Mmmm... nothing like strawberry marmalade to wake you up, eh?" says my brother, in between bites. I nod my head in agreement, and when we finish we look longingly at the rest of the bread and marmalade.

"A little more.. because of the day?" I nod my head happily and we cut another piece and spread more marmalade. I eat this piece slowly, savoring the flavor.

The small crunching noises of us eating isn't enough to fill this huge house. It used to seem small, when it was the four of us. Now our small munching noises echo across the house.

"I'm gonna get dressed, sis, you should do the same," my brother says after we have finished eating and have sat there in silence for a couple minutes. I follow him down the hall and we go into our separate rooms, pulling our reaping outfits out of our dressers.

We meet by the front door, me in my olive green lace-trimmed dress, he in a fancy black shirt and dark maroon pants, chestnut brown dress shoes on his feet.

"Good luck," he tells me, and I nod my head. I plaster a smile on my face so he won't be too worried.

"Don't worry, bro. After today we'll be safe."

"I'm not worrying if _we'll_ be safe. I'm out of the reaping. I'm worrying about you, you have 21 entries!"

"Just don't worry, bro, I'll be alright."

"If you say so..."

"And I do." He rolls his eyes and I giggle at him. We get to the square and share a heartfelt hug before going our separate ways. I ignore stares, hisses, and insults sent my way and get into the 18-year-old female section, and the other 18-year-old girls move away from me, and whisper behind their hands.

"HELLO DISTRICT 8! ARE YOU READY FOR THE HUUUUUNGERRRR GAMESSSSSSS!" screams the District Escort, Star Cassidy, into the microphone, and I cover my ears as the sound of her shrill voice fills the District from the extra speakers they added this year.

A few people clap, scattered in different parts of the square, and I bite my lip in annoyance.

"Well, I sure am! After that lovely speech from the mayor," which she says like she actually thinks it was the most boring thing in the world, "I think it's time for something extra special to happen! Prepared to get pumped, for it's time for the reaping!" she yells as she flips her long hair behind her. Her hairs wavy and light-blue, with pieces of fabric sewn into it for our district. Her dress is a short multicolored dress with lots of different types of fabrics, and it is see-through around her midriff, so that you can plainly see her belly button with many piercings. She has a top hat covered in assorted buttons of all shapes and sizes, and she's wearing super high high-heels, and she expertly makes her way to the female bowl, not stumbling even slightly.

"And the female tribute is... Artemis Rose!"

I stare at her, horrified. Panic fills me and I freeze, paralyzed with fear. I start shaking and crying and some nasty girls push me toward the stage, and some try to trip me, and I slowly step onto the stage, tears stinging in my eyes and staining my cheeks. How could I be reaped? I promised my brother I wouldn't. Why couldn't one of those mean girls be reaped? I clench and unclench my fists, hating the Capitol even more. This reaping is screwed. All of those names in the ball, they were all mine. They chose my as an example. To show what happens to those who defy the Capitol. Well, they got what they wanted, I think, shaking, staring into the crowd, scared and trembling.

"And the male tribute to join Artemis is... Seth Rambly!"

A crying, trembling boy is coming out of the 12-year-old section, and I look upon him in compassion. Poor kid, I don't want to admit it, but he'll die. I mean, I have a somewhat chance, being 18. But he's twelve! Like, seriously? How cruel are these people. Very, very, very cruel.

"I volunteer!" comes a somewhat quiet voice from the 16-year-old section. A bloody volunteer?! What? Has the District gone to the dogs, are they all turning barking mad, are we gonna become a Career district?! Like, really?! What's happening.

A boy comes up and from first impression he doesn't look like a career at all. He's scrawny and thin and is wearing a white shirt and black pants that are baggy on him and not close to as extravagant as the clothes the rich people in Career district have. And, on second impression, well, he still looks like a small non-career weak boy. For a volunteer, that's not a very good angle. Just saying.

I send him a disgusted look as he mounts the stage, hating every Capitol-loving part of him.

And he has the nerve to send me a smile! Well, it was a nervous, jittery, reluctant, kind of reassuring smile, but still! He looks a bit fearful but then sticks his head up high and straightens his back.

"I'll bet my lucky _buttons _that was your brother! Am I right, Mister?" asks Star. Oh. Ya, he could be a nice guy. This is when I'll find out.

"No, umm, my name is Scott Lockwood," he says into the microphone, and now I know who he is. A Capitol-loving, stupid, killer. Even if he doesn't _look_ like one, he is.

"Well, we have our 300th Hunger Games tributes!" Star screams and we are ushered into the Justice Building, where I will probably see my brother for the last time.

**Scott Lockwood D8 Male:**

"Loaf of bread, please, the oldest one you've got, and 8 apples," I say, handing the owner of the cheapest store in the District all the money I had made that week from working at the textile factory double time. The oldest bread is cheapest, of course, and we can eat around the little specks of mold. 13 gold pieces, dirty and rusted, get passed into the mans hand, and turning them over, he inspects them. He nods his head is happiness but looks up at me concerned.

"I could give you a discount, if you'd like? You're a good regular costumer, and-"

"I'm sorry, but don't bother. I'm fine, but thanks. It's your money." People are always trying to help me, but I can't let them. I have to do this, and then he could go starving just so I could eat a bit more.

I go back to our house on foot, even though it is so far away, we could never afford a car that some of the richer in the District get the luxury of. By the time I get to my front door I'm wheezing and I hand all of it to my mother who, in turn, puts it into the cabinet. I sit on a rocking chair, regaining my breathe and rocking back and forth.

"Scott, some breakfast?" asks my mother, and I follow her and join the rest of my family in the dining room. I have 5 siblings and two parents. Hard to feed, but easy to love.

She hands me a small slice of last weeks bread I bought and a half of an apple.

"Are you sure, mother?" I ask, gesturing to the juicy bright red fruit.

"Yes, you deserve it! Now eat up," she says, ruffling my thin brown hair. After I finish we all pile outside, and I pick up my littlest sister and carry her piggy-back to the square. Although we are pretty poor, and live in the smallest part of the District, the poor part, many know us and we are sent friendly waves and reassuring pats, and I shyly smile at them. Only two other siblings of mine and eligible for the reaping, my brother, at 15, and my sister, at 12. It's her first year and I'm so worried. She could be reaped!

But I have to say goodbye to them as I go to get pricked, and then I go to the 16-year-old section.

After the mayor makes his speech I prepare for the loud voice, which I know will be louder from the extra speakers, of Star, the District Escort. The one who will decide who will die in the next couple weeks. We only have three living Victors, one being a 76 year old man, one being a 72 year old women, and the other being a 32 year old women. Only the 32-year-old women mentors, as the Capitol find the other too old.

"HELLO DISTRICT 8! ARE YOU READY FOR THE HUUUUUNGERRRR GAMESSSSSSS!" Star shrieks in her Capitol high-pitched voice, and I shake from the sound, and ball my fists into my ringing, aching ears.

A few people clap, which I find pretty mean, well, very, very, very mean because they are clapping for someone that is like them to die.

"Well, I sure am! After that lovely speech from the mayor," she says with a hint of sarcasm, "I think it's time for something extra special to happen! Prepared to get pumped, for it's time for the reaping!" she shrieks again, flipping her abnormally long hair back. I find her outfit too revealing, but some wolf-whistle to her and a lump forms in my throat when I see her lips starting to move. Please don't be my sister.

"And the female tribute is... Artemis Rose!"

A girl comes out of the crowd from the 18-year-old section, and I immediately recognize her. It's the girl that the whole district thinks shame them. The girl the whole district hates because she hates the Capitol. Well, not the whole district. Not the poor people, who hate the Capitol for making them starve, or the families of reaped tributes that have died over the years, who hate the Capitol for killing their loved one. Not me, nor my family, either, hate her.

She's crying, but her beauty really stands out. Her electric bright blonde hair is shining in perfect waves, and her blue-purple eyes are sparkling with tears, and her athletic body makes her look like real competition.

"And the male tribute to join Artemis is... Seth Rambly!"

A crying boy comes out of the 12-year-old section and I catch my breathe. They can't let that boy go into the games! Someone, someone has to volunteer! A sibling, an older friend! But no one does, so I make a split second decision. One that will change my life forever.

"I volunteer!" I say quietly, kind of in a yell whisper, not really trusting myself to not throw up if I raise my voice a little louder. Some gasp and some stare in disbelief as they see the most hated girl in the district and a, and I'm not bragging here, pretty liked boy in the district are going into the games alike. Rich or poor, they want to help me. But I know no one will volunteer for me. No one likes me that much. And my brother is younger than me, if I can't win he won't. Well, I know I won't, being scrawny, weak, having asthma, and having a tendency to throw up. All these thoughts surface in my mind, but I push them down and try to look confident. I had to do this. I would hate myself if I had let that little boy go into the games. Although, I am a little boy.

The girl, Artemis, gives me a disgusted look, like she thinks I want to go on a killing-spree and am a Career born into the wrong District. I send her a smile, trying to send her the message that I don't want to go, that I don't want to kill, but I don't think it passed through.

"I'll bet my lucky _buttons _that was your brother! Am I right, Mister?" asks Star, making a joke on how our district does clothes and her hat has buttons, which actually isn't funny in the least bit.

I shake my head, replying in a slightly trembling voice, but over all strongly, in my opinion, "No, umm, my name is Scott Lockwood."

"Well, we have our 300th Hunger Games tributes!" Star shrieks and I am pushed into the Justice Building, and I know I just signed up for my death. But at least that boy won't die. Now, I'm gonna have to say bye to my family and explain this. Oh, boy...


	11. Chapter 9

hi District 9 here! thank you PSULucky and myself! Okay, on to the reaping! read and review :) I luvvvvv reviews :DDDD

oh ya, don't own HG, disclaimer and all that :D

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**Aubra Macintosh D9 Female:**

"Here comes the vain girl! She wants everyone to bow down to her, the narcissistic brat!" Mila hisses into my ear. I bite my lip, trying to ignore her, and sit down at the dining table, and father looks up from his copy of the local paper.

"Ah, Aubra! Sleep well?" I nod my head and take my seat at the table, with Mila glaring at my back. How could I sleep well? It is reaping day, unless he miraculously forgot. Though that would have to be impossible.

"Now, I see you're worrying, Aubra. Don't worry, you didn't take any tesserae. You're safe as can be!" he says cheerily, and I nod my head, wearily. No one is really safe from this. No matter how little or no tesserae they take. Except the people too young or old to be reaped, of course.

"Mila, can you pass the porridge?" asks my mother, and Mila reaches over to get it.

"Would her highness adore some porridge?" Mila whispers to me as she hands it over the table to my mother. I look at my parents, to see if they notice Mila's snarling face, but they're busy discussing the grain factories they own with each other.

So I'm stuck with just trying to ignore her.

"Huh? Aubra, the unworthy imp, is too high above me to respond?" She digs her nails into my wrist, and I flinch slightly, but still ignore her. "Well," she says, breathing into my ear. "You'll never be above me," and she drags her nails across my arm, making a thin red line and causing my skin to turn white around it.

I pull my arm away and start eating my breakfast cake. It's a rarity here, but we can afford it. It's like bread, but it tastes like cake, and it tastes like banana and has sliced almonds in it, and it's about the best thing I have ever tasted. Except that hot chocolate we had one winter beat it out 100 to 1.

"You're just so quiet. So shy because you find no one worthy for you to talk to. And stupid, and ignorant, and.." and she goes on, whispering insults into my ear, and I tune her out best I can, catching a couple words like 'egotistic' and 'inconsiderate' and 'bone-headed.'

And meanwhile I munch on my bread, my parents don't notice anything, and the estate we live in is just there, a place, too big for just the four of us, even if we do have many people living here working for us. One bite, two bites, three bites, four bites, five bites, I count my bites of the cake until it's all gone, and Mila's words reach my brain again, getting worse and worse with each insult.

"Mila, Aubra, you better get ready, Sullivan will be ready with the car in a bit, and the reaping will start soon. Go, hurry along!" my parents say as they shoo us out of the room.

One we get into the long marble hallways Mila starts speaking to me again.

"You better be worried. You're gonna get reaped, I just know it. Now, scurry along, you pampered b****," she says as she runs down the hallway, backwards, so she can see my reaction, and then up the stairs to her room, her short legs moving back and forth, her skin and fat bouncing, her bright red pimple dots sticking out on her nose, and her malicious dark brown eyes looking at me evilly. Her knotted bright orange hair falls down her back and sways with each step she takes. Finally I hear her bedroom door slam upstairs and I go up the stairs myself.

Come on, she wouldn't know that I'm going to be reaped! She's just saying that to scare me. But still, it sinks in deep. It deepens the big pit in my heart she's created.

I inspect the long scratch she made on my arm, and it looks like it will form a scar. It will just join my other scars. Or my big bruise on my leg, from when she hit me.

_"Mila, Aubra, the attics looking dusty. Can you sweep up there?"_

_"Sure, mother!" Mila says in a sickly sweet fake voice, and she drags me up the stairs, tightly gripping my hand and holding her broom in the other. My broom is in my free hand, and I drag it behind me, and it sprays up dust on the stairs._

_Once we get upstairs and then into the attic, Mila faces me. "Sweep. There better be not a speck of dust here. I want mother to be proud of me, that I made the attic spotless." So I nod my head, knowing not to defy her, and start sweeping. I guess I wasn't fast enough._

_Her broom comes down on my knee, making me buckle over and drop my own broom. Her broom cracks down a couple more times, and with each I gasp with pain._

_Finally I'm able to dodge one of the attacks, and she hits a old family heirloom, a statue of the bust of an ancient ancestor, made of rare stone that sparkles sliver. It crashes to the floor and soon becomes a thousand little sparkling pieces, some getting stuck in my arm._

_"What was that?" my mother calls, sticking her head up the attic door._

_Mila drops her broom, puts on a distraught fake face, and answers, "Aubra knocked over the statue of Violetta Macintosh!" And mother gasped, and noticed me right on the floor beside the shattered bust of Violetta Macintosh._

I shiver at the memory and close my eyes to block it out. Come on, just get dressed.

I dress in a deep purple velvet knee-length dress that fits me perfectly, and then I comb my fiery red hair over my eyes. My hair has always been.. strange. Not only is it an intense red, it has dark purple streaks in it. Completely natural, and no one in my family has it. And then my eyes. My royal blue majestic eyes. I don't like showing off what I look like. It'll just make Mila hate me more. And torture me more. So I cover them up. Even my dress has sleeves that cover my slender arms. The sleeves are silky and royal blue, and they match my eyes, which bothers me, but the dress is just so pretty it would be a waste to let it sit there in my drawer.

I assume it's time to go, and I head down the stairs to the front door, and down the driveway, stumbling along and slipping on a pair of black sandals with small heels.

Mila is wearing a short orange dress that frills out out the bottom, and has silver sparkles all over, and silver tall high-heels. She snarls at me and I quickly look away.

"Hi, Sullivan," I say to our chauffeur, Sullivan. He smiles to me and we all pile in. Too soon where are at the square and Sullivan parks on the curb. I'm the last to get out, and before I go, Sullivan stops me.

"Good luck, Aubra," he says, and I smile gratefully. "Your friend is coming down the street," he says, and my head snaps to the side, where I see Nico running towards me.

"Nico!" I say, hugging him.

"Aubra, good luck. I know you don't have a big chance of getting reaped, but good luck," he says quickly, but I stop him.

"Nico. I'm worried about you," I say quietly, not wanting to make him worry more, but still expressing it. "You took out so much tesserae for your family-"

"I'll be fine, Aubra. Come on, we have to go to the square." I nod my head reluctantly and we make our way to the Registration Tables, hugging each other one last time before we have to go our separate ways. After I get pricked I go to my section, the 17-year-old female section, and all the guys from school wave at me excitedly from their sections. I shyly smile back, and endure guys I've never seen before compliment me, when finally the District Escort steps up.

She's seems less... extravagant. Less than the old one, at least. The old one is now a host for some Capitol T.V. show. More subdued, this women, even if she does have a dress the color of honey that's long and ruffled, and hair piled on her head that is a deep olive green. Her skin looks normal, her eyes look a normal light blue, her teeth look normal, even if they are super white, and her nails look normal, they just have a coat of bright yellow paint on them. Probably why she's _our_ district escort, they don't want to give a horrible district a good escort, or at least a good escort in their views.

"Hello, District 9!" she says, but she doesn't sound all that excited. Probably upset that this is the District she was assigned, when there were other better open spots, that opened up_ this_ year. "I'm pleased to announce that I will be the new District 9 Escort! My name is Dolly Agnes, for those of you who didn't know. But I am even more pleased to tell you that the 300th Hunger Games is about to begin. Get ready, get set," she says, in an irritated high-pitched voice, slow-motion pulling a slip of paper out of the girls bowl. "The girl tribute is Aubra Macintosh!"

I turn ice cold and my head starts spinning. I faintly hear Dolly calling out for 'Aubra Macintosh' again, but I feel pins and needles and a rush of cold going up my spine and I feel light-headed. I feel hands on my back from behind me as the sky becomes farther away and I assume I'm falling down. They push me back up and I dread what I have to face. I miserably look at the stage, and as I walk closer to it Dolly's smile gets wider, and my frown gets deeper. My tears are hidden under my bangs which I had brushed over my eyes, and I wait, mournfully, to see who will join me in my fate.

"And the male tribute is..." Dolly says, considerably brighter now. "Miller Garner!" After a few seconds, a short, pimpled, pudgy boy with matted light brown hair and dark brown eyes, who greatly resembles Mila in appearance, walks to the stage from the 14-year-old male section. He's crying but has an angry look on, and he roughly wipes tears off of his face.

"Shake hands, please," Dolly says, sounding completely bored. His grip is strong and tight, but he's shaking, and, shivering, Dolly leads us into the Justice Building after she yells, "You're 300th Hunger Games District 9 tributes!" My parents were wrong. Mila will probably never torture me again. If I lose or win. But she was right. And Nico.. well, I don't think I'll live to see his smile ever again. His comforting words, or friendly advice, or anything. My last glimpse of them will be at the goodbyes. Maybe I'll make it out alive. Or maybe I won't. I hate this. I can't find a way out of it.

**Miller Garner D9 Male:**

"Bye Miller!" my mother, May, says as I walk towards the peacekeepers pricking.

"Good luck!" my father, Patrick, says.

"Bye!" I say back, walking happily to the peacekeeper. Yes, today is a horrible day. But, the least I can do is stay as positive as possible. After I'm pricked I walk to the 14-year-old male section, and meet up with Parry Dune, my best friend.

"Hey, Mill-boy," he says, and I smile brightly at him.

"Hey, Dune-boy. How ma-"

"Hello, District 9!" the District Escort, Dolly, says, interrupting us. Well, I did come a bit late, this is expected that they would already be at that point. Parry stares at her, a little scared, and I just try to look optimistic for his sake.

"I'm pleased to announce that I will be the new District 9 Escort! My name is Dolly Agnes, for those of you who didn't know. But I am even more pleased to tell you that the 300th Hunger Games is about to begin. Get ready, get set," she says, picking out a girl name. "The girl tribute is Aubra Macintosh!"

I girl goes up to the stage, and the first thing I notice about her, being me, is her sad demeanor. Then I notice her fiery red hair with dark purple streaks, her face beyond beautiful, with no imperfections, except a lone tear sliding down it, and her deep majestic blue eyes showing through the strands of hair covering them. Then I recognize that she's that daughter of the rich family, the ones that own one of the largest grain industries. They have a massive grand estate, and a car, and so many workers working just for them. I feel bad for her, I don't know if she could make it in the games. I don't know her personally, but rich people aren't really made out for surviving in the woods, and fighting to death, I mean, take the Capitol as an example. Unless they're from a career district, of course, then they'll _enjoy_ it. Absolutely grotesque.

"And the male tribute is..." Dolly says, happily, and I cross my fingers that it is not me or Parry.

"Miller Garner!" No, no, no! Parry looks at me, scared, and people create a path for me. I'm struck with horrible anger. I'm crying more than that girl, Aubra, and I roughly wipe tears from my cheeks, and have to keep doing it because my eyes are freely flowing waterworks, against my will.

Dolly says something but I can't even hear, but Aubra holds out her hand so I shake it. We're led into the Justice Building, and Dolly says something more, but I'm blanking out. I know I will die. My heart will stop. I will bleed. I don't want to... I don't want to die.


	12. Chapter 10

hi! District 10 reapings! thank you Tigergirl22 and Superdude2026!

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**Anna Mougin D10 Female:**

"Get up dears," says a soft voice as an equally soft knock sounds on the door as equally soft footsteps tiptoe away.

Well, I'm already up, and so is everyone else in the room. Me, Sophie Hilton, my sister Adele, and my brother Pierre.

And we all get up, scurry down the hall together, and sit down at the dining table, where Sophie's mother and father sit waiting.

"Good morning," says Mrs. Hilton.

She is striding over to us with a pan holding steaming eggs, and we chorus back, "Good morning," as she plops the pearl white circles oozing mustard yellow liquid onto our plates, and then passes each of us a small square of thin buff colored toast.

"Thank you, mother," says Sophie.

"Thank you Mrs. Hilton!" I say brightly, and Pierre launches into a full recount of his dream. Something to do with flying, making birds wings out of the chicken feathers, and then the barn animals could talk, and some more.

"And, in the dream, Amber had a colt with Azure named Airborne, and Airborne flew along beside me, though he was very small-"

"Pierre, didn't you have this dream a month ago?" I ask, amused. "But, oh no, that was Aspect and Knight having a colt named Airborne, is that right?"

"Oh, yes, but you know I'm just excited for Airborne!"

And I nod my head up and down, enthusiastically. Of course, today wouldn't be a day most are excited. But, you can't blame him. Amber and Azure are having a colt and so are Aspect and Knight, and the peacekeepers direct who gets to train the horses to do the work in the main ranch that covers most of District 10. And our family has been chosen to get which ever's colt comes first, along with the parents, to train for field work. Previously we worked on the main ranch, sometimes slicing meat, sometimes fattening animals, sometimes training animals for work, but it was a luxury to get a special job. There were three special jobs one could get. To train an individual animal family, which was the most given out luxury job. To have your own barn and ranch and your own herd is another. That was only the rich of course. Then there was to train luxury animals for the Capitol. A rare bird for them to have as a pet. A circus horse for the Capitol. Fish in a aquarium. That was so rare a job, that no one they knew had it, though of course there had to be people that had it, but in the rich part of the District, many miles away from them.

"Of course, Pierre! Come on, though, finish up, we've got to get going," I say, waving at the food he hasn't touched. Then he looks at me guiltily. Because in his excitement he didn't take into account that I could be reaped today.

"I'm sorry, An-"

"All right, Pierre, I'm just happy your happy!" I say, patting his back, thanking Mrs. and Mr. Hilton again, and following Sophie upstairs while carrying Adele up.

Once we get upstairs we put on our only fancy clothes. I put on a lilac dress with a blue belt. Sophie puts on a plaid green and white dress with short sleeves, and I slip a bright yellow dress onto Adele.

"Tank you Amma!" chirrups Adele, and I smile brightly at her while I comb my frizzy brown hair into a respectable position.

We walk down the hall, and pass Pierre walking toward the room on our way.

Once we're all assembled in the living room, we take each others hands and everyone wishes me and Sophie good luck. It's our first reaping, but we both have 7 slips in.

I have to just hope. Just hope.

And we make our way out the door, holding hands, hoping and hoping.

We pass the main ranch's gate, from which some people are filing out of. We're lucky that we have our house. Some of the people have to live in the log cabins at the actual grounds. They have to work extra hard for their housing and are given barely any food to live on. But, I've got Sophie and her parents, and we can live together.

"Guys!" I shout, as I see our friends coming out of their houses. Maddie Chandler, Maya Heritage, and Gemma Sheldon.

They run over to us and join our link of hands, and I talk to them rapidly.

"Guys, don't worry, we won't get reaped. We're_ twelve_ for pity's sake. We have, like, no chance. Come on, stick your head high, we're lucky, we won't have to really worry for another year or so, and I'm sorry to say this, but did you see how much tesserae Timmothy Hounder took? He's 18 and he has _77_ slips in. About 70 more than most of us. I don't think we have much of a chance. Oh, and I got news on Airborne! Whichever one he'll be, both are due in about _one month_. We can make it to see Airborne, right? So, anyways.." and I yak on and on until we reach the square.

"Bye, Pierre, Adele, Mrs. and Mr. Hilton," I say, hugging them. Pierre's safe as he's only 10, and Adele is only 5, so I won't have to worry about them for a while.

Sophie shares a long hug with her parents, and then we go to get pricked.

After we're pricked we have to wait in line.

And then we have to listen to the mayor's speech.

But, meanwhile, the silence is killing me.

So I chatter a little with my friends. But then I stop.

Was that.. Oliver? He couldn't be. Oh please don't be. Don't be.

And he turns around.

And I let out a sigh of relief. This man has chubby cheeks. Happy bright round tawny eyes. Not high-cheek bones, a dead look on his face, never ending pits for eyes. Cold, cold eyes. That are the same color as mine. But mine are bright blue. His are.. desolate. Steely. Hard, always squinting, always calculating, always making me shudder and flinch. Not like my mother's. Giselle. Only three years ago, her cold pale body, my father's anguished cries, left to care for three children, my mother gone just because we couldn't afford medicine. Just because it was a couple coins too much to save her life.

And I shudder. Ignore the thought, ignore, shake your head. And that's what I do. I shut it out.

And then the square goes silent. I can faintly hear the squawking and sounds of the animals in the distance, but everyone's attention is focused on the brilliantly bright women walking onto the stage.

Basically shining with golden light, and blinding light piercing our eyes after hitting the metallic glint of curled gold horns that were implanted onto the top of her head. Her sweeping hair, sparkling with golden glitter, falls to the ground in many intricate braids, and there's a large pure white halo floating above her head. Her dress is regal. A queenly dress that sparkles with real sewn gold and silver and gems all over of magnificent colors, and even here skin is flawless with sparkling silver and gold tattoos snaking up her arms. Her large golden lips part, and her deep but still Capitol-sounding and frilly voice booms, "Welcome to the 300th Hunger Games! My name is Rexana Basilie, if you are new to the reaping this year, and I'd like to wish all good luck. Now, then, why don't I pick the girl tribute?"

But it's a rhetorical question, as her hand immediately plunges into the glass ball, and she picks out a couple names. Not me, not Sophie, not Maddie, Maya, or Gemma, not me, not Sophie, not Maddie, Maya, or Gemma-

And she drops a few back into the bowl and reads the name she has chosen. "Anna Mougin!"

Who's Anna Mougin? I look around frantically, trying to find who was reaped. It's not me-oh, no, no, no!

Did she call _Anna Mougin_? No, no, no, that is me. That can't be me. I.. just.. it can't be me.

And Sophie sends me a frightened look as peacekeepers walk lazily toward me, taking slow striding steps, creating suspense.

But I know I have to go. So I walk to the stage. I'm too shocked to show feeling. Well, I'm sure I probably don't look bored or blank-faced. I probably look shocked, stricken, frightened.

"And the boy tribute to join Anna is... Damian Janus!" And I see the boy walking up. No. The _man_. He's a hulking mass of pure muscle. And I know who he is. Damian. Why does it have to be him? Why, oh why, oh why?

At least he looks a bit sad. But it's all cover up. He's used to this type of thing. Now I have to go into the arena with him. The arena...

"And we have your District 10 tributes!" yells Rexana huskily, and orders us to shake hands. I slip my trembling hand into his and he squeezes so hard, I feel like my bones will crush.

But.. but as we're led into the Justice Building, he pats my shoulder. Reassuringly. It must be all an act, mustn't it? He's.. he's.. he's a murderer. He's a trickster killer.

**Damian Janus D10 Male:**

_"Yo! Give me your tesserae, I'm not takin' any, you give me 'em or else, ya-" and my fist connects with his jaw as he falls over. I won't let him hurt me. I won't let him hurt my family, my friends, we need the tesserae. I just have to hurt him enough so he'll leave us alone._

_So I kick him, and he rolls over, groaning, leaking blood, pale marked with fiery-red streaks, he lifts his arm shakily to shield himself._

_I kick him over and over. And run, as he takes a last shuddering breath._

_..._

_I rub my eyes. I rub them so much that they're starting to turn red. That boy.. his fate was in the District news on the bulletin board in the square. No one knows it was me. We were behind the school, in an alley, they can't prove nothing. But they suspect._

_..._

_"Hey Dylan. Puny Dylan. Tiny, weak, orphan Dylan. Did your parents die on purpose because they couldn't stand their frail, repulsive, butt-ugly, vile son, huh, they suicide because a you? Huh, Dylan? Too shy to answer? You don't talk, you don' deserve ta' not be punched!" but as the boy swings his arm at Dylan, I catch it and pull it back, and it makes a huge popping cracking sound and the bully sends me wide eyes._

_"Go, Dylan," I tell my brother, and he runs away to the gate leading to our home in the ranch grounds with even wider eyes than the bully._

_Bending the boy's arm back, I push his arm back, and shove him to the ground, remembering that I can do this, I've done it before. Where did that lead to? But I have to. I have to protect. The only way to protect is to fight._

_So I beat him up. Simple. Punch him over and over again, creating deep navy bruise blue and sickly black and mustard yellow and olive green bruises marking him all over._

_And I leave him. He'll never hurt us again. He'll never hurt Dylan again. He won't hurt Daisy. He won't hurt Cynthia._

_..._

_And I rub my eyes more. I want them bloody red. I want to show how horrible it is what I did. But they had it coming to them. They attacked first. I'm doing defense. Am I? Well, now my blood-shot eyes are like the blood marking my victims. Well, they were the predators. We were the victims? Were we? Was I, really? I mean, they're the ones dead. I'm not. I'm.. starting to go crazy? Maybe. Not sure. I didn't think I could kill them. I still don't believe it. I underestimate myself..  
_

_..._

_I punch. No time to think. This has to happen. He can't hurt us anymore. No emotions. No emotions. Put my emotion into packing a punch. Banging their head against the floor, I start gathering the energy for a final kick, and I hear shouting. I deliver it, the kick, and then run. I run from the shouting, from the pounding feet behind me, but I get away. That guy.. or girl, I'm not sure, well I had to. Not time to think. He tried to beat me up first. He tried to steal my hard-earned coins. He insulted Dylan. Daisy. Cynthia. But he's over with. Done.  
_

_..._

I wake up. Tired? Not sure. Exhausted? Yes. Big difference.

But it doesn't matter. I've got to get them up.

I shake Daisy awake. Then Dylan. Then Cynthia. We have to be by the kitchens line by 6 A.M sharp in order to be let through the ropes and receive breakfast.

So we get up. Get our trays out of our cabinets, and I reach up high for Daisy's and Dylan's, and as we head outside in the bitter cold in our flimsy garments Daisy clutches my hand.

We reach the kitchens really early, so they let us slip under the rope and we join the already long line. I rub Daisy's back with one hand, Cynthia's back with the other, and murmur encouraging words to Dylan, since this will be his first reaping, and he's trembling from head to toe, and not just from the cold.

When we get our food they put a small scoop of tesserae oatmeal mush, the least expensive thing to make as they make all the kids get the tesserae. Then they fill our water bottles half each with water, dirty but hydrating. When we get to a small secluded table I pour some of my water into their bottles, though they protest, and give them some of my mush, hoping it will help them a small bit at the least.

"I love you guys. I love you guys so much. I don't want you to get reaped. I-" but Cynthia silences my with a small soft kiss, and I shut up. It'll be alright. But we still have to work. So I go to the desk and get all of our assignments. We're all butchering today. Good.

So we go there, hand in hand, and get to the butcher shop, full of long sharp knives, short blunt daggers, chopping axes that I've found remarkably good for throwing. Which I do. I guess I kinda let out my feelings by puncturing the wall with them. The axes. And the peacekeepers don't mind. They think it's just the decaying old walls already covered with mold and grime.

So everyone cuts up horse, cow, chicken, pig, and other types of meat, I do the same, but I now and then throw an axe at a specific place, and I make it and smile. Just an accomplishment. I don't want to hurt anyone. I want to be soft. I do love. I do care. It's just to prepare. Precautions. Just in case.

And a couple hours later, with everyone's muscles aching from stooping over the work tables, we head to the square. I retrieve looks. Like I'm a crazy disease to be _infected_ by and _killed_ by and _hurt_ by. But I'm not. I was defending. Why does no one understand? I can't control it. It controls me. _What controls me?_ one might ask. I'm not sure. Myself. Others. Everyone. The Capitol. _The President_. She controls everyone. Even if she has no idea about them. I hope she has no idea about me. Or Daisy. Or Dylan. Or Cynthia. I hope we're not her next victims. Targets. How could I defend myself against her?

And we have to leave Daisy. She's only 7. She's safe. From the reaping. Not from other stuff. So I embrace her before she goes tearfully into the crowd outside the ropes.

And after I get pricked, and tightly hug Dylan, who shakily goes to the 12-year-old section, I meet my friend Steve Peters. We're all 15. Me, Steve, and Cynthia. Cynthia lives with us, but so do other hundreds of people, in our small cramped log cabin in the ranch grounds. Steve lives with his family, though. But they could never afford for the four of us to join them. Steve has an older brother. Who hates me. For the rumors. The true rumors. But Steve and Cynthia know they're true. I've got nothing to conceal from them.

But Cynthia is an orphan like me. My girlfriend. They understand me. They trust me. I understand them. I trust them.

And it's time for the reaping to start, way too soon. Of course I hate the reaping. I'm not cold-hearted. My heart is not a dull heavy stone, or a boulder at that, or a pebble even. A full pumping heart full of love is what I have. For those I can love. For those I try to protect.

This women is ridiculous. That's my first thought. Those horns growing out of her head, and the illusion she's trying to create that her skin is _so_ flawless that it _sparkles_. And those millions of diamonds and gems and real gold and silver on her right there in front of me, just for her to _wear_. We barely have enough _food _and she has the great decency to go showing off her rich capitol style to us. Sarcasm.

And that halo.. well, let's just say, she's not a angel, nor innocent, nor perfect, nor any of the characteristics of an angel.

She radiates golden light that makes it look like your staring at the sun, blinding you, but she's not the great beacon of hope and happiness shining to us all. The _exact opposite_. Sincerely.

Even her face is unreal. Golden fancy Capitol lipstick, rosy red with little golden sparkled cheeks, incredibly pale otherwise, royal blue eyes with golden sparkles in them. "Welcome to the 300th Hunger Games! My name is Rexana Basilie, if you are new to the reaping this year, and I'd like to wish all good luck. Now, then, why don't I pick the girl tribute?"

Oh, don't be Cynthia. Not Cynthia Graymark. That's all I can think. It takes over my mind. Anyone but her. Anyone besides the girl I love, who understands me, who _loves_ me.

"Anna Mougin!" And I breathe out relief, the air I've been holding in sweeps out and tickles the person's neck in front of me, who turns around, and scared at seeing me runs a little ways away from me. Silly. I'm not insane. I won't hurt them if they don't hurt me.

I wonder if Anna is a bully. She must be scared, though, as the peacekeepers start walking toward the crowd to get her unmoving body, but I see a short girl with frizzy-brown hair and bright blue eyes walk to the stage, looking shocked and scared and incredibly feeble. Not a bully, at least doesn't look like one. And she's only 12. She's coming out of the 12-year-old section. A big disadvantage. But I don't notice her from the grounds log house, a.k.a orphanage for people of all ages. Basically any kid without parents or anyone without a home lives there. She must have her own house. Or her family does, at least. Or I just haven't noticed her tiny self in the grounds in our home. And I don't recognize her from being friends with Dylan.

"And the boy tribute to join Anna is..." and I cross my fingers and Cynthia grabs my hand, tightly, scared.

"Damian Janus!" I'm..reaped. To fight I go. I've done it before. In defense. But I've killed. But I don't want to. I'm not a career killer. I don't enjoy it. I don't mean for it to happen. So I'm sad. No, I'm more than sad. I'm miserable, despaired, desolate, wretched, crestfallen, but I'm horrified to leave my family alone. Dylan. Daisy. Cynthia. Steve. I consider them all my family. I love them. I can't leave them.

But I have to go up.

So I detach myself from a sobbing Cynthia, nod my head at Steve, who gives me back a reassuring nod, and make my way up.

While I'm standing next to Rexana I think. How do I look to the Capitol? Or the other tributes? I mean, I'm tall, at the measuring wall in the log cabin, where we can measure our heights, I was 6 foot 7 inches, and that was about only a couple weeks ago.

I'm muscly, no doubt. And over the years my eyes have become bloodshot. The veins in my eyes are strikingly brick-red, so you notice them in my eyes more than the kind soft brown, that can turn hard and stern quick as a switch.

I have dark skin and calloused hands from work and being out in the sun quite a lot. I think I could be intimidating. If I show them what I'm capable of. But I'm not sure _what_ I'm capable of.

My straggly blonde hair stands out against my dark tan skin. But my clothes show a lot, too. My ratty tennis shoes everyone living on the ranch gets, that are too small on my feet, squeezing them, and my worn out dirty white-turned gray socks, and my ripped jeans and patched and frayed gray t-shirt. Maybe I look cruel. Maybe I look pathetic. Maybe I look menacing. I'm not sure. All I see are the sobs of my family. But I should be ready to fight. I guess I am. I am ready to fight. To fight to return home. Because I _can_.

"And we have your District 10 tributes!" yells Rexana, and she directs our hands to shakes. I squeeze Anna's hand hard out of nerves, but her hand is trembling and I can see her shiver.

As we're led into the Justice Building I pat her shoulder. I want her to not worry. If I don't win she should. It'll help my family. They'll get food. She doesn't seem a bully.


	13. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** hi! District 11! okay, thanks Doctor Legolas and David N. Brown! okay, get ready to rumble!

:DDD

Sorry for the late update, I've kinda had writers block with Bernadette :/ But I was like, suck it up Celeste and DO IT! So I did :)

but enjoy and review! :DDD

* * *

**Bernadette Taloc D11 Female:**

Swinging along the trees, putting one hand in front of the other, I feel the rough bark scraping my hands, and only ruffle the huge lime green leaves slightly. It doesn't hurt, swinging like this, and feeling the bark, as everyone in District 11 has calloused rough hands, that even a needle wouldn't go through. Unless its the Capitol Reaping day needles to sign you in with blood, which I'll have to do today. But now it's still dark, and the moon shines, leading me forward, so I keep going, pushing worrying thoughts out of my mind.

I stop at a particularly tall tree, with thick dark swaying branches in the breeze, and shift my position to face Clover, who's about ten trees away, grinning slightly. She scrambles from tree to tree, reaches mine, and settles next to me. We face in front of us, and watch the large blood red apples in the trees across the clearing.

"Bet we could knock one down from here," Clover whispers, and I nod my head, and pick a handful of acorns from the tree. Handing her a couple, we both take careful aim. Pulling our arms back, then thrusting them forward and letting go, I see Clover's acorn spin wildly and hit the trunk of an apple tree, and then it bounces to the ground.

I watch mine soar, and it hits one of the large apples, so the apple shakes on its stem but doesn't fall.

"Wow, you hit one," Clover whispers, and I smile at her.

"Yours was close," I say, giving her a smirk, and she playfully slaps my arm.

"We'd better get out, before the peacekeepers find out we wandered off.." Clover says worriedly, trailing off and looking around frantically.

I nod my head, and we fly through the trees, and see our group working in the distance. Reaching them, we slip back in, and start picking brightly colored berries from the thorn bushes.

Around us people's mouths water at the prospect of this food, but I'm able to contain urges to steal and eat some, as I had a pretty good breakfast this morning. I'm not poor, but I'm not rich, so the berries still get my stomach rumbling, which earns me a harsh look from a peacekeeper.

After a couple painstaking hours, after the sun started to peak out behind hills of crops, and after it starts shining so hard we are burning and exhausted, a burly peacekeeper shouts, "Dismissed!"

We're led out of the gates to the orchard, and I clutch Clover as we push through swarming bodies.

I think back on earlier, and relish the freedom and fun I had, jumping through the trees with Clover earlier. Those risks are the only part of my life that isn't boring.. but it's starting to get routine, like everything else. Wake up, eat, go to the orchards, sneak around and fool around without getting caught, work in the orchards, go home, eat, sleep. Repeat.

At least today is a little different. We get most of the day off, we don't have to work all day, and although the reaping is horrible, it's different then my usual boring life.

"The reaping is in 30 minutes," Clover remarks sadly to me, and I look over at her. People say we look very alike. But, I think mainly everyone in District 11 looks alike. We both have the dark District 11 trademark skin, but ours is lighter then everyone else's skin tone here, more tan than black. Clover has hazel eyes, one of the norms in district 11, and my eye shape is the same, cat-like. But I'm different. I have bright _blue_ eyes. Like the rich of District 11, which is very few. My father was considered upper class, but not anymore. He doesn't have blue eyes anymore. Because he's in a coffin, hidden in the ground, taken over from a disease, a disease not even we could afford to cure, because the cure was unknown. A disease from a plant, a stupid plant he was assigned to pick in the horrible fields, when I was at the horrible age of one year old.

"Clover, don't worry, we haven't gotten any tesserae," I say, pitying those who have, but caring more that we have gotten along well enough to not have to take any.

I pull my hair out of my messy ponytail, tied with twine, that already was mostly out, with strands laying across my face, and gather my long, chocolate brown, wavy hair together, into a new high ponytail. Clover follows suit, but with her lighter, pale brown hair, into a lower, 'more comfortable' for her, she says, ponytail.

On the way to the reaping we have time to stop by our houses, so I drop into mine and she drops into hers. Waiting for me at the dining table in mother, sitting beside a light blue dress laid across a chair, the familiar necklace of hers hanging on her neck.

"Mother," I whisper, looking up at her, and she gives me a tentative smile.

"Be safe, Bernadette, don't get reaped. Don't join them.." she says, her eyes wide, with a distant look plastered on her face. I nod my head, and head into my room, on the way picking up the dress.

Getting into my room, I know I don't have time to wash all of the grime off of me, so I settle with just changing into nicer clothes. I slip off my work clothes, and slip on the dress, then view myself in my mirror, one of our best possessions.

The dress is actually very pretty. It used to be my sister's..

But now it's passed down to me. It's plain and sleeveless, showing my slightly muscled arms, and a faded light blue, and only comes to my knees, which is actually pretty long as I'm one of the taller girls of District 11, being _slightly_ properly nourished.

I run my fingers through my hair a couple times, slip my tired, wobbly, nervous feet into a pair of flats, beige rough cotton shoes, the most fancy shoes I have, and I go back to my mother and help her up. We walk, arms linked together, down the path leading to the town square, and Clover meets us, in an olive colored, short sleeved, soft layered dress that goes a little below her knees. I link my free arm with her, and we take big brave steps to the square, with Clover's parents trailing behind us.

Once we arrive, I kiss the cheeks of my mother lightly, and she goes to the section filled with fretting parents and wagering dunderheads, and me and Clover join the growing line of frantic children waiting to be pricked.

I can't help but wonder who will be reaped this year. It better not be Clover.. they can't take two people from me, they just can't.

Will it be me? But I have to shut that thought out...

So I get pricked, bite my tongue from saying something rash to the snarling peacekeeper, and join Clover in our 16-year-old female section. I don't really recognize any from school, as we barely have any school, but my and Clover clutch each other as the mayor, with eyes so similar to mine, makes a speech.

But no one's paying attention to him. They're all watching the District Escort, Rico Spotless. She shines and makes us all hate her. Because guess what her outfit is made of? Millions and millions of golden and silver_ real_ coins, that could keep District 11 going for millions and millions of years.

As she steps toward the microphone, her outfit jingles, sways, and clangs, and even trails behind her, and the sound of metal hitting metal stings my ears. I notice that her outfit seems to be clasped with black string in the front, and it actually looks like a very big, fancy coat, and it puffs out slightly at the bottom. Her headpiece, a golden crown made of coins, with white feathers sticking up on the stop, catches light from the sun and gleams brightly.

"Why hello there, District 11!" she shouts in her silly Capitol voice. "I present the 300th Hunger Games!" And with that, she claps for herself, very enthusiastically. The mayor claps a little, politely, and then she starts talking again.

"May the luckiest District 11 children get reaped to go and explore a world of wonder! Cross your fingers that you're reaped as I pick the female tribute," she screams, and she practically _prances _over to her seat, and slips off her extravagant coat. Under it is a short dress, quite above her knees, that's assorted shades of brown and green. It looks as if it's made of fur, and from where the dress ends to her knees, is a hoop skirt made of thin wires, with a few blades of grass stuck on it here and there.

"Outfit change!" she sings, and then almost leaps over to the female bowl, and plunges her hand in. Grabbing a whole clump of papers, she _throws_ them into the air, and catches one as it drifts down slowly.

This charade doesn't really surprise anyone, as Rico always does something crazy for the reaping every year.

"And, brace yourselves, for the girly tribute will be... Bernadette Taloc!" she screams, jumping up and down happily.

No, no, no, no.. not me, can't be me, I can't meet the same fate, not two in the family, there must be a mistake.. I look around scared, hoping the crazy escort will shriek merrily and say, 'ha-ha, no, that was a joke, the actual tribute is this other poor girl!'

But, alas, no. It's me. _I'm_ reaped. So I suck in my breath, and take long steps to the stage, and try to look as confident as possible to the cameras.

Maybe this won't be all that bad. It won't be my boring, depressing life. No, I won't have happiness in killing and showing off to the Capitol, but maybe, just maybe, I'll get through this, and I'll be happy, I'll be content. It's not like I'll miss out on anything. Sorry, home, but District 11 sucks. I won't miss working all day. I'll have a little more excitement in my life before I die. Here, I would just live in fear, and boredom. At least in the Capitol I'll know I've received the worst fate there is, so it'll be hard to be scared of other things. Besides spiders, and insects, and the horrible weapon...

Is this how my sister felt? Did she know her fate, that her life has ended? Will I have the same fate as her? Did she know she'll meet her end by the horrible weapon that scares me the most, that I _saw _kill her, that they just had to use when showing past Hunger Games on required television?

But I need to block these thoughts out of my head..

And I succeed as Rico hugs me tightly, and then plucks out a male name. "Seed Redwall!"

A tall, dark haired and with a dark skin tone, man comes out of the 18-year-old section, and I recognize him immediately. He's part of the 'crazy' family of District 11, sort of. He is engaged to Sky Grey, who's the older sister, by a year, of Schulyer Grey, the embarrassment of District 11, and a Schizophrenic hallucinator. I'm sorry to admit, but like most in the district, I avoid him. It's not that he's harmful, just a little _different_. I've always wanted to talk to him though, as it would be pretty interesting and different then my boring, no-change life, but that frown of disappointment that people would look down upon me with put a stop to my thoughts of it.

"I volunteer." I hear a steady voice from the crowds, and out steps a disheveled Schulyer, tall and skinny with messy hair and dark chocolate-bean skin, in ragged patchwork clothing, looking unfazed and unconcerned, and I envy him just a little for, as I am very jumpy. He walks forward, calm, and brushes past his sister's fiance, who looks barely sad at the prospect of Schulyer leaving, and runs and leaps into Sky's shaking arms, and they pay Schulyer, who just changed their lives forever, and saved Seed's life, no attention or thankful expressions.

"Oh my, a volunteer!" Rico screeches, and basically jumps on Schulyer. "Wow, what a handsome lad! What would your name be, darlin'?" she yells in his ear, and he faces the crowd, and leans in toward the microphone.

"I'm Schulyer Grey. Don't worry, I have an angel on my shoulder," he says, and with that Rico stares blankly at him, and the crowd watches, some rolling their eyes.

Finally Rico gathers what wits she has, and claps him on the back, saying, "Sure you do Schulyer, you brave boy. And do you know that man?"

"Yes. He's my sister's fiance. My angel told me to volunteer."

"Well, I bet your sister and her fiance are very thankful to their great Schulyer, yes?" she says in a fake sweet voice, with a hint of sarcasm. "Now, tributes, shake hands," she shrieks, and pulls at each of our hands, and thrusts our hands toward each other. He shakes my hand, and I shake his, and Rico announces us, and we walk into the Justice Building, and I hope against hope that this won't be that bad. And a small ray of happiness finally goes through me, for the first time in a long time.

**Schulyer Grey D11 Male:**

Unwinding and winding back up the yarn, I stride down the many paths of District 11, covered with trees, in ease. Enjoying the cool breeze, and wallowing in the shade from the trees, protected from the irritating rays of the sun, I smile at the squirrels and birds I pass, petting a couple here and there, and whistling a nice tune into the sky. But I must hurry, angel urges me..

So I take quicker steps, keeping back the wince as my feet crunch on dead leaves, because they're _dead nature_.

Up ahead I see the square, full of loud people, and many, many noises.

_"Go ahead.. good things will come." _I feel it, even without angel telling me. It's a natural feeling, of happiness and prospect of nice things to come. The angel taught me to feel good. And I do.

Getting pricked, I smile slightly at the peacekeepers, and then wave merrily at mother, sister, and her fiance, who all look away, toward the sky, toward the ground, anywhere, and I whistle to myself. It's alright that they don't say hello, or wave, or smile at me. My angel says so.

And my angel says to listen to the mayor, even while all 17-year-olds around me are staring, open mouthed, at the District Escort.

"Today will be a great year. A mutual game. Bondings will form, relationships will spring up, but most important, deeds will be paid, and lives will be taken, but all for good cause. And I present the District Escort, Rico Spotless, and good luck District 11. Whether you are reaped or volunteer, it is your fate to participate in the games." The Mayor steps back, and an overly dressed Rico steps forward, but I don't pay her any heed.

"That speech was given to him to say," I whisper to my angel, turning my head towards my shoulder, where my angel is.

"_Yes, and he's right. This will be a special year. But don't worry. No matter what, harm won't come to you,_" my angel whispers back, and I nod my head slightly. "_But you won't have to pay attention to the escort. She'll just blabber. And if anything happens, I'll tell you,_" says my angel, chuckling slightly, and I chuckle too. I know she talks a lot. She's been our escort for years.

So, like the angel said, I block out the square, and in it's place I imagine I'm in the forest, surrounded by my friends, being my angel, nature, and the animals. A recent new friend, the tiny baby blue-bird, sings a soft lullaby, and I find myself humming it while everyone else gasps beside me.

I look up, and see a girl heading towards the stage. I notice two great things. Her dark-cherry red, full lips, and her eyes the color of baby blue-bird's feathers.

"_Her name is Bernadette Taloc,_" my angel whispers, and I nod my head, staring at her. She's pretty, and doesn't seem that rattled about being reaped.

"_She'll be alright,_" whispers my angel, and I repeat it to myself out loud, to know it will be true.

I block out my surroundings again, disappearing into my forest at the edge of the District again, but a name seeps into my fantasy.

"Seed Redwall!"

"_Volunteer. It will be alright,_" I hear, and peer over at my shoulder.

"Alright, angel," I whisper back, and then face the whole of District 11. "I volunteer." It comes out smaller then I thought it would. My angel has always led me away from trouble, but it is the _Hunger Games_, I can be a little scared.

I walk forward, confidently, and pass Seed, who runs past and hugs my sister. Good. They will be happy together. And my angel will help me survive this.

When I get to the stage, Rico hugs me, but I miss what she says, and I turn to my angel for directions. "_Say who you are_," he says, and I face Rico again.

"I'm Schulyer Grey. Don't worry, I have an angel on my shoulder." After I say it, I give a small wink, barely visible, to my angel, but I know he sees is.

Rico says something again, but I don't catch it, and right away my angel knows that and whispers, "_Explain why you volunteered. Who that man was. Your sisters fiance._"

"Yes. He's my sister's fiance. My angel told me to volunteer."

"_Shake hands with Bernadette,_" my angel whispers, and I clasp hands with her, and shake. Shaking hands has never made sense to me, but mother says its polite, and angel told me to. Plus, this girl looks nice, so if she likes to shake hands, then it will be good to shake her hand so she'll like me.

"Into the Justice Building," I tell my angel, as I'm led into the large, dreary building. But I'll be fine. Because I have my angel.


End file.
